Draco: Phoenix Rising
by Cheryl Dyson
Summary: Shortly after Dumbledore's fall from the tower, Draco ponders his fate and begins to question the Dark Lord's wishes. This is my version of Book 7 using JKR's plotlines and ZERO original characters! Begins right after The HalfBlood Prince.
1. Chapter 1 Draco

**DRACO: PHOENIX RISING**

**Chapter One - Draco**

Draco stood at the edge of the pond in the gathering twilight, staring impassively at the dark water. How easy it would be. How tempting to walk into the brackish depths, to stride unthinkingly onward as the water rose past knees, hips, and chest. To walk until the liquid death closed over his head and filled nose and lungs and finally choked the last life-sustaining breath from his body and with it the excess of emotion that had plagued Draco for the past few weeks. It was a satisfying image.

It was not fear of death that stayed his footsteps. He had recently come to acknowledge that there were, indeed, worse things than death. Rather, it was the thought of actually stepping forward into the stagnant pond. The thick mud would suck at his black boots; the green slime near the edge would cling to his white shirt and waterlogged reeds would catch on his legs…

His face, expressionless until that moment, twitched briefly as his lip curled into a pale shadow of his usual sneer of disgust.

Draco Malfoy. Saved by fastidiousness.

A small sound behind him betrayed the presence of one of his watchers. Any suicide attempt would likely be foiled by the minion, anyway. Draco was never quite out of sight or earshot of at least one of them. The lack of trust in Voldemort's band of merry men was appalling.

Draco's dismal shot at humor was buried by another onslaught of despair. The events he had set in motion had grown into a tidal wave of horror he could never have imagined. If only he had taken the time to foresee the consequences of his actions… He simply hadn't thought beyond his mission. What would he have done differently? In truth, he'd never really expected to succeed.

"If you wish to save your father's life, you will find a way to kill Dumbledore," Voldemort had ordered. Well, Draco had certainly found a way. A ludicrous plan that should never have worked—_would_ never have worked but for Snape's timely (_untimely?_) arrival.

_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer._ The words still rang in his mind. The words of a dying man, one whose wisdom Draco had never acknowledged. The words beset him for days as he sought to either deny or accept them.

Draco's features were once more still as carved marble, giving no hint as to the torment of his thoughts.

_The truth will set you free_. Hah. The truth will bind you in iron chains and drag you to the depths of hell. The truth was agony. Draco's eyes glittered. He had become quite the philosopher, recently. All the pesky ideals he hadn't spared a moment's consideration for in the past seventeen years had come to haunt him like a host of demons. Draco's foundations had been shaken to the core by a few simple words, a burst of green light, and an avalanche of events that followed.

Draco's watchdog coughed lightly behind him—a signal of the man's desire to escape the growing chill and return to Malfoy Manor to partake of the food and drink that had once belonged to Draco's family.

_You can rot out here with me_, Draco thought bitterly. His mind returned, for the thousandth time, to events after the fateful evening on the Hogwarts tower.

Dumbledore's words, Snape's killing curse, the frantic race for the front gates—and Potter, of course—why hadn't he been there to save his mentor? He'd always played the hero before. Draco had expected to confront his little nemesis and although there had been fighting in the room below the tower, it had been too little, too late. Harry's race after Snape and Draco had been fruitless, although Draco later had time to ponder how Potter had known to pursue Snape. Two brooms on the tower, and Dumbledore so weak he could barely stand. Where was Potter? Had he gone for help? He would have passed Draco on his way down the steps. It made no sense. Draco pushed the mystery aside. Potter must have been below. But the two brooms disturbed Draco.

They had escaped with only one casualty. Without the Death Eaters, Draco and Snape would never have left the tower alive, which had likely been Voldemort's plan all along. Draco thought it very likely that the Dark Lord had never expected Draco to succeed in his plot. It had been intended as a distraction and nothing more. A little mission ending in Draco's death at the hand of Dumbledore, an act that would have brought a cartload of guilt to the old wizard and a severe case of punishing grief to Lucius and Narcissa. No matter how the scene played out, it was win win win for old Voldemort.

Snape's actions had given Snake Face quite the boost. The former Potions Master was now in high favor. Voldemort was in such high spirits he hadn't even killed Draco for failing his mission, apparently since the outcome had been satisfying. Azkaban Prison was now empty since the revolt of the dementors, who now roamed the countryside willy-nilly sucking the life force from any witch or wizard not strong enough to fend them off. Perforce, Lucius had been released and had gladly turned over Malfoy Manor to Voldemort and his henchmen. It was the least he could do, after all. The Ministry had searched Draco's home thoroughly after Lucius's escape from Azkaban, but Voldemort's band had been hiding elsewhere until the Ministry cleared out. Occasional watchers still dropped by, but they were easily overtaken by Voldemort, who now had several sets of _Imperiused_ eyes in the Ministry.

The days following Dumbledore's death were chaotic. _Apparating_ to a ramshackle, drafty house; delivering the news to Voldemort; the Death Eaters celebrating long into the night; and the continuation of Draco's torment—an endless barrage of questions from Voldemort. Draco shuddered at the memory of the repulsive snakelike eyes burning across the table from him…

ooOoo

Too tired and sickened for subterfuge, he recounted the events at Hogwarts. The Room of Requirement, the Vanishing Cabinet, and the flight through the halls. Finally, he detailed the events on the tower, although he left out much of his conversation with Dumbledore and tried to block it from his own consciousness.

_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer._

Voldemort's subhuman face cracked into a cold grin when Draco finished. Draco expected that to be the end of it. He half-expected a muttered _Avada Kedavra_ and goodbye, Draco. What he didn't anticipate were Voldemort's next words as the evil wizard sat back in his chair and steepled long, bone-white fingers before him.

"Now, Draco," he hissed in a rasping voice that conjured images of dark creatures scurrying over rotting corpses, "Tell me everything you know about Harry Potter and his friends. Every single detail, no matter how small and insignificant."

As he racked his brain, Draco was surprised at how little he knew. The three Gryffindors had afflicted Draco for six long years and he barely knew a thing about them.

"Harry Potter lives in London during the summer. It's rumored he hates his Muggle relatives. He never goes home during breaks or holidays. His family never sends letters or packages." It was strange, but until he uttered the words, Draco had never considered how horribly lonely it would be to have such a family. Draco's mother regularly sent letters and packages with sweets and trinkets. Even his father wrote on occasion. Draco continued, "Sometimes he stays with the Weasleys—they took him to the Quidditch World Cup. He plays Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team." Draco scowled at the memory and forced the words out. "He flies well."

Voldemort's slit of a mouth ricked slightly.

"Better than you, eh?"

Draco's face flamed. "Better than me," he spat. He took a deep breath and plunged onward. "He flies well, but he's none too sharp. He constantly sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, but he wouldn't get anywhere without Granger, his little Mudblood girlfriend."

"Tell me about her."

Draco's jaw clenched at the memory of Hermione Granger. He remembered her audacity—punching him like a common Muggle instead of using her wand. That had been unexpected.

"She's Muggle-born. Lives with both Muggle parents when she's not four feet from Potter's side. I don't know where. She's very smart and very competent. Without her, I doubt Potter could find his way out from under a robe. She always has her head in a book and has likely been through every tome in the library twice over. She's excellent at Potions and can perform most spells on her first try. Snape hates her as much as I do, although I'm not sure why. She also spends a lot of time at the Weasley's. I used to think she was Harry's girlfriend, but I've never seen any sign of romantic attachment between the three of them. Granger often fights with Ron Weasley—the other member of their little trio—and they have gone days without speaking to each other."

Voldemort said nothing, so Draco moved on to Ron. "Weasley is the oddball of the group. He's dirt poor and has to resent Potter because of that. It's rumored that Potter has a vault full of gold at Gringott's that he never uses because he doesn't want his little weasel friend to feel bad." Draco sneered briefly. "Although it hasn't stopped him from acquiring the best brooms available for Quidditch. Weasley would likely fail all his classes but for Granger. I'm sure he hates her sometimes for being smarter than him, and better at everything. Except flying. Granger is appalling on a broom. It seems to be the only thing she can't do. Weasley, of course, lives in a place called The Burrow—aptly named since they live there like a pack of rabbits. Too many of them to account for, nearly. The father works at the Ministry of Magic in one of the Muggle-loving departments."

"Arthur," Voldemort hissed. "Yes, I remember the blood-traitor and his shrewish little wife, Molly. Tell me about their children."

"Well, Bill Weasley works at Gringott's—I only know that because Theo spotted him there before school started. Charlie works in Romania with dragons—common knowledge since the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. The Weasley clan visited him there once when they scraped up some extra cash. It was in the _Daily Prophet_."

Voldemort nodded impatiently

"Percy is a sycophant at the Ministry of Magic. None of the Weasleys seem to like him much. The twins—Fred and George—spend all of their time at their joke shop in Diagon Alley. The youngest is Ginny. She's Harry Potter's new girlfriend, if the gossip is correct."

Voldemort's slit eyes narrowed at that. Draco felt gleeful malice emanating from the wizard and felt a distinct sense of foreboding.

"That's all I know," Draco finished hoarsely. He was suddenly ice cold.

"You may go, Draco," Voldemort said softly. His glittering eyes let Draco know he was lucky to walk out at all. Snape entered as Draco went out, but the former Potions Master spared him barely a glance. The door shut and Draco sagged against the jamb, dizzy and nauseous. His hands shook.

Though he did not intend to eavesdrop, Draco could hear clearly as Voldemort questioned Snape, who knew more, oh so much more, than Draco would have dreamed.

Hermione Granger lived in Caerphilly off St. Christopher's Drive. Her parents worked at a small clinic near the mall. She had three Muggle friends that lived within walking distance of her house and she spent quite a lot of time with them during the summer, visiting the mall and wandering about Caerphilly Castle. Her parents generally took several weeks of vacation during the summer and when Hermione did not accompany them, she stayed at the Burrow with the Weasleys.

Harry Potter lived at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, which Voldemort apparently already knew. While there, he was also untouchable unless he was out wandering the neighborhood, as shown by the dementor attack the previous year. Members of the Order of the Phoenix guarded him almost constantly and would be doing so for a certainty after Dumbledore's death.

The Weasleys were hosting a wedding for Bill and Fleur Delacour in the late summer and the entire Order would be in attendance, as well as Harry Potter and friends. However, since the Order knew that Snape knew about the wedding (and would disclose it to Voldemort), they would likely revise both time and location. They would not, however, be smart enough to cancel the happy occasion and it was simply too perfect not to plan some sort of attack. Snape already had a few ideas that he would share with the Dark Lord when the occasion approached.

They discussed plans for raiding the headquarters of the Order, even though it was still protected by Dumbledore's wretched _Fidelius Charm_, which meant that although Snape could get there, he could not divulge its location. They discussed a number of methods for circumventing the charm.

Voldemort was cackling happily by the end of his conversation with Snape. Draco quietly left to find a bed, where he would sink into fitful sleep full of dark dreams.

ooOoo

Draco sighed and turned away from the dark pond as the minion approached. Who was it this time? Not Fenrir Greyback, thank God, since he always looked at Draco as though he were a tasty midnight snack. Greyback was easily the foulest creature Draco had ever known. He lived only to inflict pain, kill, and eat.

It was Goyle, father of his friend Gregory. He looked remarkably like his son; huge and dim. He currently wore a hangdog expression common to most of the Death Eaters when they were not in the presence of Voldemort.

"Why you standing out here all alone, Draco?" Goyle asked.

"Sorry, I get a bit bored with adult conversation," Draco replied, cultivating his image of non-threatening youth.

"Yeah, too bad Gregory can't be here. His mum took him to a safe place where the Ministry can't get hold of him."

Draco nodded and kept his expression passive, although rage flared briefly behind his eyes. All of the wives and children had been hidden away, safe from Ministry officials, and—though unspoken—safe from Voldemort. All but Draco and Narcissa. They were both kept close at hand in order to keep Lucius in line. It sickened Draco to see his strong, proud father grovel before the Dark Lord. They all did it, though. Voldemort got a kick out of using the _Cruciatus_ _Curse_ at random moments.

Without further conversation, Draco marched resolutely back to Malfoy Manor.

ooOoo

Most of the Death Eaters were lounging around the dining room table. Antonin Dolohov leaned back in his chair; his booted feet were propped on the mahogany tabletop. Draco glared at him, but said nothing. Dolohov grinned as Draco took a seat on the other side of the table. Lucius was not so complacent when he stalked in moments later.

"This table has been in my family for generations, Antonin. Go home and treat your own belongings like trash, if you will."

Dolohov removed his feet after a pause just long enough to be insolent. Draco's mother and Bellatrix LeStrange followed Lucius, trailed by Bella's husband and brother-in-law. Narcissa sat next to Draco and her hand squeezed his shoulder affectionately as she passed behind his chair.

"Hello, Draco, dear," Bellatrix greeted as she sat on his other side. Draco smiled briefly and looked at her askance. She had been in Azkaban Prison nearly Draco's entire life. A mad light shone in her eyes and she seemed to contain a restless energy. Rodolphus, her dead-eyed husband, sat beside her. He always acted as though Draco did not exist, which was better than having those dead-fish eyes actually looking at him. Uncle Rod was quite the guy. Crazy aunt, freaky uncle. Great family you have there, mum. Three house-elves appeared and began to serve the meal.

Draco looked dispassionately at the rest of the Death Eaters as Lucius sat at the head of the table. To the right of his father sat Derek Crabbe and Gerald Goyle. Dolohov was next to Goyle. Then there were the Loon Twins: Alecto and Amycus Carrow. They had never been imprisoned in Azkaban, apparently, but were unhinged all the same. Then Titus Mulciber, who was just as vicious as Bellatrix, but in a quieter fashion. Next sat Nott and McNair, regular visitors to the Malfoy household.

Opposite his father lounged the one they called Lars. He was a huge blond brute of a man. Strangely, he wore an infectious smile most of the time. He drank like an Irish sailor. Across from McNair sat Rookwood, Martin Jugson, and Albert Avery. Draco only knew them by sight. His mother sat next to Avery, then Draco, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan LeStrange. Nearly all present and accounted for. Except for Fenrir Greyback, Wormtail, Travers, Yaxley, and Snape. And Voldemort, of course, though he never ate with the Death Eaters. Draco wondered if he ate at all. There was also a huge pack of underlings hand-picked by the Death Eaters that patrolled the grounds and ran errands.

Wormtail strode into the room when they had nearly finished eating, halting all limited conversations. He scooped up a joint of fowl from the tabletop and ripped off a chunk.

"The Dark Lord has a mission," he said. Bits of food dribbled from his lips. He sauntered around the table and leaned over Draco, who recoiled in disgust. Wormtail snatched up Draco's nearly untouched wine goblet. He took a loud gulp and slopped some of the contents on Draco's shoulder in the process. He slammed the goblet down with a sigh of pleasure and gripped Draco's same shoulder with his silvered hand.

"You get to go, my boy. Hopefully you'll do better than your last mission."

Narcissa leaped to her feet, knocking her chair backward.

"No!" she cried. "He's just—" She silenced herself at Draco's cold expression and then continued more quietly. "He's barely of age. Send someone else."

"The Dark Lord commands it," Wormtail said gleefully and squeezed. Draco gave no sign of pain, though agony lanced through his shoulder from the metal grip.

"None of _their_ sons are in harm's way!" Narcissa yelled and gestured at the other Death Eaters. "Why Draco?"

"Now, now, Narcissa, the Dark Lord likes Draco. He has faith in him, he does." Wormtail's grip thankfully loosened. "Besides, he won't be going alone. Crabbe, Goyle, Mulciber, Jugson, and Avery will go with him. He'll be safe enough."

"What's the mission?" Narcissa asked tightly.

"Just a little jaunt to Caerphilly to kill a couple of Muggles. Easy job."

Bellatrix laughed. "Calm down, Narcissa. It'll be fun for Draco. Get him out of this dreary house for awhile."

"Draco is not a killer," Narcissa said so quietly that they barely heard her. The words jolted Draco—an unexpected echo of Dumbledore.

Bella snorted. "They're just Muggles. And he's got to learn. Let him grow up, Cissy."

Narcissa retrieved her chair and sank into it. Her face was paste-white and she looked accusingly at Lucius, who was expressionless. His father said nothing. Draco had noticed the growing chasm between his parents—another thing he could lay at Voldemort's feet.

"Who are the Muggles?" Draco asked, even though he already knew.

"Their name is Granger," Wormtail said and laughed heartily.

ooOoo

Draco gratefully entered his room and shut the door. His headache had grown to epic proportion and his shoulder ached from Pettigrew's grasp. Draco had solitude for maybe thirty minutes, thanks to his rigid policy of taking nightly baths. The water was already in the tub, steaming hot and lightly scented. After his bath, the door would be unceremoniously kicked open and one of the minions would sprawl on the cot that had been set up near the door, in order to guard Draco while he slept. To keep him prisoner.

His brows drew down over silver eyes for only a moment before he walked decisively to his writing desk and picked up a quill. He scrawled a hurried message, sanded it, folded it, and tucked it into a pocket.

"Cully!" he called softly. With a small pop, the house-elf appeared at Draco's side.

"Yes, Master?" the creature whined as it bowed nearly to the floor.

"Get into the bath and pretend to be me until I tell you otherwise," he ordered. Cully looked dubiously at the water, but climbed in obediently, wincing at the heat of the liquid. Draco liked his baths hot. Cully splashed a bit, pretending to wash. Draco nodded, satisfied, and stepped into the wardrobe to lessen the noise of _Disapparating_.

He appeared in the middle of St. Christopher's Drive in Caerphilly. It was extremely dangerous to _Apparate_ blind—he could have ended up in a tree or half-jammed into a Muggle automobile. Thankfully, the street was nearly deserted and he hurried to the sidewalk. His luck held as he spotted an old woman walking her ratlike dog. Draco conjured a small bouquet of flowers.

"Excuse me, Madam," he said politely. "Can you tell me which house belongs to the Grangers? I've only been here once and I'm afraid I've quite lost my way."

The old woman sized him up carefully while her little dog sniffed at Draco's pant leg. He repressed the urge to kick the animal into the street. The crone finally cackled.

"Well, aren't you the handsome one? Didn't think the Granger's little bookworm daughter had it in her to snag a catch like you."

Draco's polite smile was becoming strained. The old woman pointed.

"Right there, laddie. The house with the wisteria arbor. I don't think they're home, though."

"That's fine. Hermione told me to wait if she wasn't there." The name sounded odd on Draco's lips. He had always thought of her as "Granger."

He strode to the house and threw the flowers behind a bush. After making sure the old woman was out of sight, he cast _Alohomora_ on the door and went inside. As the old woman had suspected, the place was empty. Draco ignored the neat kitchen and living room and made his way up the stairs. On the next level, the first door he opened revealed what was obviously Hermione's room.

Draco paused to look around curiously. There were books everywhere, of course. Three huge bookshelves had been crowded into the room, but the tomes overflowed onto desk, end table, and even the floor. Unmoving posters lined the walls and above the bed was a tasteful painting of a Highland landscape. Her bedding was dark lavender without ruffles and the furnishings were solid oak. But for the books, everything was neatly organized. Unwillingly, Draco found little to fault with the room.

A tiny pop from below startled him and a voice called, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

Draco smiled slightly. Leave it to Granger to have come up with some sort of warning spell. Triggered by the use of magic? Or merely the presence of a wizard? Draco placed his note on the desk and _Disapparated_ as Hermione Granger pounded up the stairs.

ooOoo

He appeared back in his wardrobe and climbed out with a quick glance at his mantle clock. Barely twenty minutes had passed.

"You may depart. Do not speak of this to anyone, ever," he said to Cully, who groveled appropriately and vanished. Draco tore his clothing off, dunked his head in the cooling tub, and wrapped himself in a dressing gown minutes before the door was yanked open by Nott.

"'Night, Draco," Nott grunted as he settled onto the cot. Draco climbed into his own feather bed and thought about his trip to Caerphilly. He still wasn't sure why he'd done it, but it felt good to take control of his life, even if only for a short time. He was tired of being Voldemort's puppet. Too bad it was Granger he'd had to help out, though…


	2. Chapter 2 Hermione

**Chapter Two - Hermione**

Hermione spotted the letter the minute she entered her room. She caught a whiff of a tantalizingly familiar scent—citrus and spice. Who had been here?

She snatched up the note and looked at it carefully. It was cream-colored parchment, very good quality. It had been haphazardly quartered. She unfolded it and looked at the brief lines. The handwriting was also familiar, but not immediately identifiable.

It read: _H. Granger. Servants of the Dark Lord will come to kill your parents tomorrow. The war against Harry Potter has begun. Ignore this warning at your peril._

It was unsigned.

She felt a pang of fear. Whoever had been in her house had gained admittance easily. If it had been a Death Eater raid, her parents would have been dead long before her arrival. She had set up a proximity alarm spell on both front and back doors, but she had never really thought her parents would be in danger. They were no one to the wizarding community. Useless Muggles. Why would anyone bother with them? _The war against Harry Potter has begun._

She folded the letter carefully and replaced it on the desk. Killing the Grangers would hurt Hermione and, by association, hurt Harry. If they would kill her family, no one even remotely associated with Harry was safe. Faces flitted through her mind: Neville Longbottom and his grandmother, Luna Lovegood, the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team—Dean Thomas, Angelina… How far would they reach?

She chewed on a nail and wondered who had written the warning. Who would know about a Death Eater attack? Only another Death Eater, obviously, or someone close to them. A family member? Two people sprang immediately to mind, but logic forced her to dismiss them. Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. Snape had killed Dumbledore in cold blood. If he was evil enough to do that—to betray the steadfast trust Dumbledore had always maintained—then no trivial act of remorse would be forthcoming. Why would he try to save a couple of Muggles after slaying the greatest wizard alive?

And Malfoy? He had engineered the whole thing. Harry said he didn't believe Draco would have killed Dumbledore—had seen Malfoy lower his wand, but that only meant… what? That he was a bully, but no killer? That he could plot a murder, but not sully his hands with the actual deed?

She took a deep breath and clamped down on her rage. Because of Draco Malfoy, Dumbledore was dead. The thought still brought a rush of pain. And Ron had nearly been killed by mistake—that wouldn't have bothered the pureblood bastard in the least. She snorted. No. Draco Malfoy would never warn a worthless Mudblood like her. It was more likely he'd be first in line to cast a _Cruciatus Curse_.

The door opened downstairs and she heard her parents bustle inside. Thank God they'd gone out to dinner that evening, or perhaps her mysterious note writer would not have entered. She shrugged off the question of his—or her—identity, although she retrieved the note and tucked it into a pocket of her robe. It would be a death sentence should a Death Eater stumble upon it and, according to the note, they would arrive tomorrow.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself to break the news to her parents. They would not take it well.

ooOoo

When Hermione returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, it was just past dawn. She was exhausted and collapsed into a chair as soon as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Hermione!" Molly Weasley exclaimed. "We were about to send out a search party! Ron is in quite a state!"

Ron burst into the room at that moment and raced over to envelop her in a massive hug.

"Don't you ever bloody do that again!" he shouted. "You said you were going to check on your parents, but none of us know where they live! What if there had been trouble?"

Hermione stiffened. How did the Death Eaters know where her parents lived when her closest friends didn't even know? Of course. Snape. He was a teacher. He'd had access to all the school records. It seemed his betrayal would bring yet more bad tidings.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked as he sat down next to her. He took one of her hands in his. She smiled wanly at him and took a gulp of the hot tea Mrs. Weasley set before her. She set the cup down and took the letter from her pocket.

While Ron and Molly looked it over, Hermione explained. She had been up all night with her horrified parents. She had described the current situation in the wizarding world. It had been a long tale, beginning with her first year at Hogwarts. She had never mentioned a single one of her adventures with Harry Potter over the years. To protect them, she had rationalized. And to prevent them from freaking out and forbidding her ever to return to Hogwarts. Which they would have.

As it was, they were beyond appalled. Quirrell-mort, dead unicorns, possessed diaries, petrification by a basilisk, dementors, a werewolf professor, a psychotic murderer pretending to be a teacher, Cedric's death, Voldemort's return, prophecies and Horcruxes, Dumbledore's death, Snape's betrayal; and all of it beginning and ending with Harry Potter.

There had been tears and recriminations, shouting and threats, but at last her parents had agreed to go and stay with her aunt in London, at least for a short time. They were both professional people, though. They wouldn't stay in hiding forever. How long could she protect them? For the first time, she wished she wasn't Muggle-born. If her parents had been wizards, at least they could defend themselves. She sighed. Not that ability always mattered. Look at the Longbottoms. Or the Potters.

"I need some sleep. You might send someone round to my parents' house, later. Don't let them be obvious, though. We don't want to tip off the Death Eaters that they might have a traitor in their midst. We need all the help we can get." She gave them the address, finished her tea, and staggered upstairs for a much needed rest.


	3. Chapter 3 Harry

**Chapter Three – Harry**

Harry had returned to Number 4 Privet Drive. Unlike previous summers, however, he was not moping about counting the moments until his return to Hogwarts. Indeed, he doubted he would ever walk the halls of Hogwarts again. Not as a student, at any rate. A clatter from below made him pause and his heart leaped into his throat. He heard Aunt Petunia's voice and relaxed. She had dropped something. Harry was supposedly safe here with the Dursleys, but the one who had told him that was now dead. Regardless, Harry would only be safe until July 31st. That was the day his protection ended—the day Harry became an adult in the wizarding world.

Frankly, he could hardly wait. He was sick to death of being protected. He had been thrust upon the Dursleys as an infant for his own protection. He had been kept in the dark about his parents and his abilities _for his own protection_. He had been ignored by Dumbledore for nearly a year _for his own protection_. He had been forced to learn Occlumency from the traitorous Snape _for his own protection_. He had not been told about the Prophecy or Horcruxes _for his own protection_. If only he'd known sooner. If Harry had known what kept bringing Voldemort back, he'd have gone after them years ago. Of course, Dumbledore had known that, and had kept it from Harry _for his own protection_.

Harry sighed and returned to his desk to finish the letter he'd drafted to Lupin. The Order members treated Harry differently since Dumbledore's death. No more was Harry the helpless little child that needed to be shielded. They all knew it was Harry's head on the chopping block. Without Dumbledore to save him. They had a tendency to treat Harry like he was a walking dead man.

The letter finished, Harry walked to the window and looked out. The Order still took his protection seriously. He could see Arabella Figg walking along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. She made about thirty inconspicuous trips to the market daily. Mundungus Fletcher had been banned from Harry Protection Duty, but one of the others was out there, somewhere. Either Tonks or Kingsley Shacklebolt or Sturgis Podmore.

Lupin was keeping Harry posted about the status of Hogwarts. It was still unclear whether or not the school would reopen. Not that it really mattered to Harry.

Harry had been inside his room for nearly three weeks, coming out only for meals. He sent Hedwig off nightly, bound for Lupin or Hermione or Mr. Weasley. The Dursleys seemed to have noticed a change in Harry. Whenever Vernon began to bellow or bluster, the ice-cold disregard in Harry's eyes would generally cause his uncle to trail off into silence. The few times Vernon steadfastly maintained a full head of steam, Harry had stalked off to his room and slammed the door mid-sentence. It was the Dursleys turn to watch the clocks—to tick off the moments until Harry was gone for good.

Thankfully, Harry was not cut off from the Order of the Phoenix as he had been the previous summer. Hermione had devised an elaborate code for their messages based on Muggle cryptology. Even if their letters were intercepted, the message would make no sense without translation.

There had been little to report. Azkaban was empty due to the complete desertion of the dementors. The Ministry had their hands full trying to locate the creatures and prevent attacks, but so far no one had figured out a way to capture one. Werewolf attacks were more frequent and a motley pack of the creatures had been spotted near Dover. Many Muggles had been killed in the area and Muggle authorities searched in vain for a roving pack of "wild dogs." Harry could sense Lupin's distress when he read that particular message.

The Order was still encamped at 12 Grimmauld Place, although there was some discussion about security, since Snape knew the location. He could not be able to disclose it, but he could enter at any time. Mad-Eye Moody had devised some Snape-specific booby-traps with the assistance of Fred and George Weasley, since tricks and traps were their area of expertise.

Harry spent much of his time lying on his bed thinking about Horcruxes. There were so many unknowns! If only Dumbledore hadn't been so bloody secretive. Apparently, the only other person he'd even told about Horcruxes had been Severus Snape. Great choice, there! Harry felt guilty for maligning the Headmaster, but he was still frustrated. He felt like he was groping in the dark for answers when he didn't even know what questions to ask.

Hermione was trying. There were dozens of obscure tomes at 12 Grimmald Place, full of dark magic and darker ideologies, but so far she had only found a single reference to a Horcrux, which had been a simple explanation of its purpose. There was no word as to its creation or destruction. Harry recalled Dumbledore's withered hand. It had been difficult enough obtaining the fake-Horcrux from the cave—if it had been real, Harry had no idea how he would have destroyed it.

Hermione's ideas were becoming crazier, a sure sign that she was getting desperate. She had even suggested a trip to Durmstrang to take a look at the books in the Restricted section of their library. Harry hoped to save that as a last resort. He first intended to return to Hogwarts and use Dumbledore's Pensieve. Harry hoped the Headmaster had stored _something_ relevant to the Horcrux search. He wished he had thought of it before leaving Hogwarts, but the shock and grief of Dumbledore's loss had crowded out rational thought.

When night had fallen completely, Harry attached the letter to Hedwig's leg and sent her out the window. It was a beautiful summer night. Dudley was out enjoying it with his nasty gang, but Harry bet Diddykins avoided all dark alleyways these days.

Dobby popped into the room suddenly, startling Harry. Important messages were sent via the house-elf after it had belatedly occurred to Harry to request his services. Lupin had concurred, and had gone so far as to make Dobby an honorary member of the Order of the Phoenix. He had presented the house-elf with a pair of socks embroidered with a phoenix crest. Dobby ecstatically wore them at all times.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby said in a stage whisper. He now took secrecy very seriously.

"What is it, Dobby?" Harry asked, hoping it was not bad news.

Dobby wrung his hands, generally a warning sign that Dobby was about to inflict a severe injury upon himself.

"Do not hurt yourself, Dobby, just tell me."

"Harry Potter told Dobby to keep an eye on Kreacher," Dobby said slowly. He grabbed both his long ears and tugged at them with his hands, hard.

"Yes?"

"Kreacher has disappeared, Harry Potter, and Dobby cannot find him!" Dobby wailed softly and hurried over to slam his forehead repeatedly against Harry's bedpost. Harry grabbed him.

"Stop it, Dobby!" When he was sure Dobby was not going to repeat the torment, he called, "Kreacher? Kreacher, come here!"

They waited breathlessly, but the Blacks' former house-elf did not appear.

"Oh, the shame, the shame!" Dobby wailed. "Kreacher had better be a dead house-elf or he will not be able to show his face again! To break faith with his master—Dobby knows, but Dobby's masters were very bad wicked wizards! Harry Potter is the greatest, most noble wizard ever to live! Kreacher should feed himself to a nundu!"

Harry sighed. "Don't worry about it, Dobby. Kreacher has likely gone to join Bellatrix LeStrange. I'm sure he thinks of her as his true mistress. I'm not surprised." To be honest, it was something of a relief to be rid of the useless house-elf that had been partially responsible for the death of Sirius. Despite Hermione's admonitions, Harry usually wanted only to wring Kreacher's neck. The wretched house-elf had been ordered to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy last year. He had likely kept an eye on him while repairing the Vanishing Cabinet for Draco's use.

"You should get back, Dobby. Nothing will happen here, but the Order might need you."

"Very well, Harry Potter," Dobby said softly and disappeared. Harry sprawled on his bed. Just another complication in my convoluted life, he thought.


	4. Chapter 4 The Raid

**Chapter Four – The Raid**

It was raining in Caerphilly when the Death Eaters arrived. They _Apparated_ into the Granger's back yard, which was usefully screened from view by large hedges and trees. The Grangers apparently valued their privacy.

Jugson spelled the door and they all rushed in, moblike, tracking muddy footprints on the Grangers' fine cream carpet. They divided into small groups and searched the house. Draco managed to put himself in front of the party heading up the stairs and he made it a point to enter Hermione's room. Everything was the same as it had been the previous evening, with one exception. A tiny Thank You card was propped on the desk where Draco had left his warning. Blank, of course, but beneath it lay a gold Galleon. Draco almost sneered. Payment? Then he remembered the coins used by Dumbledore's Army, the coins Draco had copied in order to communicate with the Death Eaters and plan their ingress into Hogwarts… He palmed the coin just as Goyle asked, "What you doing over there?"

"Looking out the window. I thought I saw something."

Goyle joined him and gaped out the window at nothing but the falling rain. Draco slipped the Galleon into a pocket.

"Let's go," he said with a grunt. They tromped downstairs to the kitchen.

"They aren't here," Avery pointed out when they regrouped. Draco refrained from comment with effort, though several retorts sprang to mind. Bloody hell, he'd been cheeky in school. He missed spewing sarcasm at will.

"It's 6 a.m. on a Saturday!" complained Goyle. "Where the hell can they be?"

"Maybe they went on holiday," Draco suggested dryly, unable to completely reform.

"They were here, yesterday. Mulciber checked to be sure we didn't waste the bloody trip. Which we have."

Draco felt a chill. Thank God he had waited until after dark to drop off his note. If he'd been spotted… well, he wouldn't be standing here, would he?

Several loud pops sounded outside the back door. Draco caught a glimpse of Mad-Eye Moody and scowled. He would not soon forget the day he'd been turned into a ferret. Of course, _this_ Mad-Eye would have no recollection of the act, since the real spellcaster had been Barty Crouch, Jr.… Draco snorted and _Disapparated_. There was nothing in his verbal contract that mentioned sticking around to fight with members of the Order of the Phoenix.

ooOoo

He popped into the opulent drawing room of Malfoy Manor, where his mother was pacing before the fireplace. She gave a glad cry and flung her arms around him.

"Oh, Draco! Thank goodness! What happened?"

Draco shrugged. "The Muggles weren't there. A group of Order members turned up, though, so I came back. Mulciber probably won't be too happy about that. I hope Mad-Eye Moody turns him into a ferret." He chuckled. Narcissa's grip tightened.

"Don't provoke them, Draco. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

He stepped out of her embrace and took off the long black cape he'd been wearing. He tossed it on a nearby settee. It coordinated nicely with his black trousers, black jumper, and black boots. The ever-so-colorful Death Eater uniform. He'd refused to wear a mask like the rest of them, though. What difference would it make if he were recognized? It was pretty common knowledge that Draco had joined the Death Eaters after arranging Dumbledore's death. His life wasn't worth a split Knut outside Voldemort's little circle of friends. Draco sighed.

"How long do you think it will be before Snake Face sends me on a suicide mission? He has little use for me."

Narcissa blanched. "Don't say that!"

"I haven't killed anyone, yet, Mother. Snape killed Dumbledore because I couldn't do it. Did you know that? Even though I knew _he_ would probably torture and kill you and Father both, I couldn't cast the bloody spell." His voice was bitter. Unbidden, Dumbledore's words came back to haunt him. _We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine._ What had he meant by that?

"You're not a killer," Narcissa whispered.

He looked at his mother intently. "For how long? _Lord_ Voldemort requires his followers to be bloodthirsty maniacs, you know. Even Father isn't quite brutal enough for him. It won't be long before they force me to kill and kill and kill. Soon, I could be just like Mulciber and Auntie Bellatrix."

Tears spilled from Narcissa's eyes. She shook her head in denial, but she had to recognize the awful truth of Draco's words.

"I won't allow it. Lucius will stop it. He hates—"

"Don't fool yourself, Mother. If Father even tries to suggest I be shipped off to join the other kiddies in hiding, I'll be used as a weapon before the sun sets. Father's loyalty has been questioned too many times; Snake Eyes won't do him any favors."

A small sound at the drawing room door made Narcissa start. Snape entered the room and his gaze fixed on Draco. His black eyes always seemed to be trying to pry at secrets, at which he was quite adept, Draco knew.

"Here you are, Draco," Snape said. "The others returned and wondered where you'd gotten off to."

"I'm talking to my mother. Do I need a permission slip for that now?"

Snape's expression did not change. Draco should feel indebted to Snape for the scenario on the tower. He'd taken action when Draco had not. He'd taken an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco. Even so, Draco could not look at the greasy-haired ex-teacher without a stirring of distrust. He'd never believed Snape to be committed to Voldemort's cause. Despite the incontrovertible evidence, Draco still didn't trust him. Perhaps it was merely that Snape was, first and foremost, devoted to Snape's cause, whatever that might be.

"I believe Wormtail is requesting an accounting. Jugson seems to believe you… ran away. The Dark Lord will, undoubtedly, not be pleased that the Muggles escaped."

Draco rolled his eyes. "They didn't _escape_, they simply were not there."

"Perhaps you can explain the difference to the Dark Lord."

Draco's lips thinned in annoyance, but he stalked past Snape and walked down the long hallway to the dining room.

He took his usual seat. Jugson was shouting at Wormtail. Goyle was wrapping a bandage around Crabbe's head and Avery was in a chair with his legs rigid as boards—obviously the victim of a Leg Locker Curse. Mulciber stood looking out the window at the pattering rain that had just started to fall. He was singing softly to himself and moving his head side to side like a child. Draco wondered what spell had hit him.

Wormtail slinked out the door, no doubt to return to Voldemort with the bad news, if the reptilian freak hadn't already guessed by the shouting. Voldemort had taken up residence in the Malfoy parlour, just beyond the vestibule from the dining room. He rarely slithered out, thank goodness; although that horrid snake of his roamed the house at will, turning up most unexpectedly at times.

"Where did you fly off to, boy?" Jugson demanded, rounding on Draco.

"Here, obviously."

Jugson's face purpled. Draco reflected that some of the Death Eaters were only a couple of fits away from a stroke. Hopefully, Jugson's would be today.

"Who would have thought Lucius Malfoy's son would turn out to be a coward?"

Draco smiled coldly. "Really? So you all stayed on and fought the Order of the Phoenix to the death, then? Not one of you fled?"

Jugson scowled, but Crabbe sneered.

"Of course we fled! Damned Mad-Eye Moody would have killed every man-jack of us. We're lucky his aim is bad. Half the bleeding Order turned up. How'd they know to find us there, I'd like to know?"

"Someone tipped them off," Jugson snarled. Draco rolled his eyes.

"As I told Voldemort, Granger is no average witch. She's sure to have set up alerts to let the Order know if her house was breached. For all we know, Mulciber could have set off an alarm yesterday on his reconnaissance."

Several sets of eyes shifted to Mulciber. Let them chew on that one awhile, Draco thought in satisfaction. Now that he'd sown the seeds of discord, it was time to retreat.

"I'm going to my room. I'll let you draw straws to see who gets to accompany me."

He left the dining room and headed for the back stairs rather than use the grand staircase. His room was at the back of the house, closest to the kitchen, a fact he'd utilized often as a child. Of course, he'd been terrified of the dark, creaking stairwell for years and had usually called on Dobby or Cully to accompany him. Why he hadn't just had them _bring_ him some food was a question he'd only recently asked. Stubborn pride, he supposed.

Draco scowled at the memory of Dobby. _Filthy little traitor_, he thought as he took the wooden steps two at a time. Draco had always been kind to him. Well, perhaps not _kind_. There was the time he'd pushed Dobby off the roof after ordering him not to disappear. He'd wanted to see if Dobby could fly with those huge ears of his. Draco chuckled at the memory of Dobby crashing into Narcissa's rose bushes. The house-elf had been limping and picking thorns from his bum for days. Draco had been grounded for damaging the roses.

He shook off all thought of Dobby when he reached his room. He slammed the door, kicked off his boots, and reclined on the cushions of his window seat. It was still early morning and now he had a long day of _nothing_ to look forward to.

Crabbe came huffing into the room minutes later. Draco had heard him lumbering up the stairs long before he reached the door. He looked like an escapee from an infirmary with his head bandaged haphazardly.

"Is it really necessary that I be watched at all times?" Draco demanded. "What do you lot think I'm going to do? Zip off and bring Harry Potter back here?"

Crabbe paled at the name—an interesting reverse reaction than Draco normally received. At school, they all sneered at Potter's name.

"Orders," Crabbe said apologetically.

"Fine. You're going to be pretty bloody bored watching me stare out the window all afternoon."

Crabbe sighed and sank into a comfortable chair near Draco's fireplace. Despite the rain, it was warm enough that no fire had been lit. Despite the lack of crackling flames to lull him, Crabbe was asleep within a quarter hour. Draco sneered. Some guard.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Galleon he'd taken from Granger's desk. It looked like an ordinary coin but for a tiny notch carved on one side. It was barely visible, but a caress around the edge would quickly distinguish it in a group of similar coins. He held it in his palm and concentrated. The robed wizard on the front began to melt away and the numbers twitched around the edges.

Draco jerked his eyes away from the coin and focused on a large droplet crawling slowly down the glass. What the hell was he thinking? Saving her stupid Muggle parents just to put off becoming a cold-blooded killer was one thing, but actually _communicating_ with Granger? He shuddered. No thank you.

He was about to return the coin to his pocket when he felt it go suddenly hot. He nearly dropped it, but recovered quickly and examined it.

_Who are you?_ The words were spelled out around the edge of the coin as if minted there. Draco rubbed his forehead testily. Stupid Granger. Did she honestly expect him to just blurt his name out like that? She'd chuck the coin out the window if he did. He grinned at the image.

_Devlin Whitehorn_, he sent in a flash of mischievousness.

_Why did you help me?_ she asked, apparently not recognizing the name.

He balanced the coin on the window ledge and spun it idly while he considered the question. Why had he warned her? Because I felt like it. Because I'm a selfish bastard. Because I don't feel like marching in step like a good little soldier… He sighed and picked up the coin. He didn't owe her an explanation. After all, it was _Granger_ he was talking to.

_I'm tired of being used_, he sent in a burst of anger, although he wasn't certain why he'd bothered. He was suddenly sorry he'd warned her at all, and wished he'd never picked up her stupid coin.

He threw the Galleon across the room. It bounced off the rug and rolled under his bed in a lazy spiral. Crabbe jerked in his sleep and shifted position in the chair. Draco gazed out at the rain-washed countryside. He suddenly felt very alone.


	5. Chapter 5 Headquarters

**Chapter Five – Headquarters**

Hermione stared at the coin in her hand and felt a sudden rush of sympathy.

_I'm tired of being used._

She closed her hand tightly around the metal and thought about a reply. What could she say? That she understood? That she had felt the same way so many times? Her friends would be horrified to hear it. Hermione felt guilty even thinking it. She knew they loved her, but sometimes she felt like Harry and Rons' personal encyclopedia and homework checker.

Why did she feel she continually had to prove her worth? Was it pride? She enjoyed being the smartest, the most competent, and the cleverest. But by the same token, she also resented the others' steadfast expectation that she _always_ be the smartest, the most competent, and the cleverest. Someday she was going to fail them. Already, she could feel failure breathing down her neck with this Horcrux thing.

The coin had grown cold. She slipped the chain that held it back over her head and felt the chill as the Galleon settled on her skin. She had only been asleep for an hour when the heat of the coin's activation had awakened her. She lay back on the bed in a fog of exhaustion, but doubted she could go back to sleep. It was too bright outside, even with the rain. She supposed she could draw the heavy curtains, but the Black house was dreary enough without adding darkness to the mix.

She thought about her new Death Eater "friend." Who could it be? Devlin Whitehorn? She'd never heard the name. It didn't sound even remotely familiar. Certainly it wasn't one of the names pegged to the wall downstairs. The Order kept close track of all known Death Eaters. Maybe Hermione would have a new name to add to the list. Not yet, though. He had helped her once. She wouldn't betray him until she had a clearer picture of where his loyalty lay.

She heard movement downstairs. Probably the other Order members in residence having breakfast. She should join them, but she wasn't feeling quite up to dealing with Ron, yet. Since Dumbledore's death, Ron acted like everyone around him would spontaneously combust. He was nicer to his brothers—although Fred and George had yet to return the favor—and treated Ginny like a cuddly stuffed animal. She had nearly turned him into one the last time he had hugged her, nudged her head with his knuckles and said, "Here's my sweet little Ginny-winners."

He was different with Hermione, too. At first, she had been glad to see him treating her like a girl instead of a walking textbook. He hugged her often, and held her hand, but it was not a boyfriend/girlfriend type of affection. It was more like I'm-afraid-you-could-die-at-any-moment-please-don't-leave-me type of affection. She hoped he would snap out of it once Harry returned. Ron was always a bit lost during the summer. At the Burrow, Ginny could play Quidditch with him, but here they were trapped inside. Ginny spent a ludicrous amount of time in her room with the door shut, listening to The Weird Sisters and writing torrid romantic stories about her and Harry. Those she carefully rolled up and stashed under a loose floorboard in her room. She had shared a couple with Hermione, who blushed at the memory. The girl had a vivid imagination.

She needed to sleep. She tried not to think about Horcruxes. She ordered herself not to think about Horcruxes. She shut her eyes and tried to will herself back to sleep with a pleasant memory. The Yule Ball. That was always a nice one to relive. She smiled and remembered dancing with Viktor, swirling through the gaily dressed couples and laughing happily. Hogwarts had been decorated so nicely. The grey walls had barely been visible through all the greenery Hagrid had dragged in. She sighed. Poor Hagrid. She must send him another owl. He'd been so devastated by Dumbledore's death, she wondered if he would ever fully recover. She gnawed on her lower lip and wondered if Dumbledore had ever mentioned Horcruxes to Hagrid. Probably not, as the Groundskeeper could not even keep silent about the three-headed dog guarding the Stone their first year. He would have let something slip by now…

Hermione pounded a fist on the bed in frustration and opened her eyes. Horcruxes, Horcruxes, Horcruxes. Damn Voldemort! And damn Dumbledore for keeping the matter so bloody secret. How were they supposed to destroy something they couldn't even find? To make matters worse, Dumbledore had sworn Harry to secrecy about the Horcruxes, so they weren't even allowed to ask the Order to help them. It was so unfair!

She climbed reluctantly out of bed and got dressed. She might as well try the Black's revolting library once again, although if she had to read one more paragraph about pureblood nobility she thought she might vomit. She wondered if the Malfoys were as obsessed with the whole pureblood ideal. Draco spouted the rhetoric constantly, but she wondered if every book in the Malfoy library related to the subject. She hoped not. One family like the Blacks was enough.

ooOoo

She went downstairs to see who was in attendance. The kitchen table was crowded, as usual. People tended to gather in the kitchen, since it was the only room in the house that had been thoroughly de-Blacked. Many of the Weasley's own possessions had been brought to 12 Grimmauld Place, including the Weasley clock, even though it didn't vary much from "Mortal Peril" these days, which wasn't exactly helpful. The Burrow had largely been abandoned, as they expected it to be a prime target for a Death Eater attack.

Lupin was present, of course. He rarely left, as most of the Order had unofficially elected him their new leader. He had proved to be a master organizer and had created a rotating schedule for the various duties that made Hermione sigh with envy. Tonks was seated next to Lupin. Her spiked hair was buttercup yellow today. Hermione grinned. If Hermione were a Metamorphmagis, she would be going around looking like Gwyneth Paltrow, but she supposed it was a matter of personal taste.

Next to Tonks, Moody was slurping his tea like a St. Bernard and ignoring Molly's tsking noises. Elphias Doge sat across the table from Moody, noisily chewing on eggs and sausages. Sturgis Podmore was on his left, starting gloomily into his teacup. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour were at the far end of the table, holding hands and looking as though they would slip away for a snogging session at any moment. It wouldn't be the first time. Arthur Weasley was apparently already gone. Due to short staffing, he often had to work weekends. Rufus Scrimgeour had made plain his dislike of those who steadfastly maintained loyalty to Dumbledore, but with Voldemort's followers on the loose, he needed every able wizard to maintain order.

Ron noticed Hermione lurking in the doorway and leaped up to fling an arm around her neck. He squeezed happily while she tried to pry his fingers loose and avoid asphyxiation.

"You're up! Great! Mad-Eye was just telling us about the raid on your parents' house." He glared at his mother. "Since some of us couldn't go. Even though we're of age." Molly ignored him.

She escaped Ron's arm and sat down next to Doge. Ron took the chair next to hers.

"How did it go?" she asked Moody. His glass eye swiveled in her direction. He grunted.

"Not well enough. I winged one of 'em and Tonks got one with a _Leg Locker_."

"Not the one I was aiming at, since I tripped on something," she complained.

"Couldn't tell who all was there, since they had those bloody masks on… pretty sure Mulciber was one of 'em, though. I got him with a _Confundus_ right when he was _Disapparating_. Hope he ended up in Timbuktu." He snorted. "They popped out right quick, though. Ruddy cowards."

"Apparently, the tip you received was accurate, Hermione," Lupin said. "Too bad we don't know who your note writer is."

"Well, if he's on our side, he'd better keep his head down, because I don't plan on taking names before I curse any Death Eater scum I see," Moody snarled.

"I'm sure he knows the risks, Alastor," Lupid said calmly. "I'm surprised any of them are brave enough to betray You-Know-Who now, when his power is growing."

"Regulus Black did," Hermione mused and picked up a piece of toast. "Last time, at the height of his power."

Lupin nodded. "I always wondered why. He was a 'chip off the old Black,' Sirius used to say. Mrs. Black was ecstatic that he roamed around torturing Muggles and spreading the pureblood idealogy. God, Regulus hated James."

Hermione stared at him with the toast halfway to her mouth. She lowered it to her plate.

"You _knew_ Regulus Black?" she asked and then cursed herself for the stupid question. Of course Lupin would have known him. He was Sirius's younger brother.

Lupin laughed humorlessly. "I knew him well enough to not like the little git. James and Sirius used to torment him almost as much as they did Snape. He called Sirius 'Blood-traitor' at school. He hung around with a nasty group of Slytherins, mostly for protection. Sirius didn't pull any punches just because Regulus was his brother. I would have felt sorry for him, except that he was a mouthy little weasel. He asked for a lot of it. Quite a lot like Draco Malfoy, actually. He was handsome like Draco, too. A younger version of Sirius."

"Sounds like he would have been a perfect Death Eater, then," Hermione said. "I wonder why he turned against You—_Voldemort_." She had been trying to use Voldemort's name more frequently, since it annoyed Harry when they used the nickname in hushed tones.

"Sirius and James puzzled on that, too. They never came up with a satisfying answer. Everyone thought You-Know-Who wanted Regulus to do something that went against his morals, but from what I recall, he was pretty lacking in that department. It had to be something else."

Hermione shook her head. Whatever it was, it had angered Regulus enough to send him after a Horcrux. She only prayed he had succeeded in destroying the locket before Voldemort had caught up to him. It would be one less bloody Horcrux for them to worry about.

They all froze as an alarm bell tinkled over the stove.

"I'll see who it is," Tonks offered. She went out, heading for the attic. With all the recent activity at 12 Grimmauld Place, they had decided it was getting too risky to keep _Apparating_ into the street and entering by the front door. All of the protections Dumbledore had set up still held, but Hermione and Bill had figured out a way to create a small place in the attic that allowed _Apparition_. The catch was that anyone appearing in the attic had to wait for someone to open the door from below.

Tonks returned a few minutes later with Arthur Weasley. Molly rushed over and hugged him. She was nearly as clingy as Ron, lately.

"Arthur, what are you doing back so soon?"

"I'm just taking a short break. Have to get back, but I saw something odd this morning. Mmmm, sausages!"

He grabbed one off the table and talked around bites.

"Yesterday afternoon I ran into Jameson Smythe in the elevator. He's always been a chatterbox. I'm surprised the Department of Magical Law Enforcement even allows him to go on field assignment, since he can't keep his mouth shut, but desperate times—"

"Get on with it, Arthur," Moody snapped.

Arthur scowled. "Yes, well he told me that he was off to check on Malfoy Manor. The Ministry has been keeping close tabs on it since Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban." He picked up another sausage.

"Well, this morning I ran into Jameson again. I asked him how his mission went yesterday and he said, 'Fine. Just fine.' I couldn't get another word out of him, except he kept repeating, 'All is well.' Most unlike him. I think he's under an _Imperius Curse_."

Moody stood up.

"I'm on it."

Lupin held up a hand. "Don't be rash, Alastor. We need to think this through. If the Malfoys are back at home, it's possible You-Know-Who is there, as well. If that's the case, we don't want to frighten him off."

Moody sat down.

"What do you mean?"

"If we rush in there with wands drawn, we might capture a few of the Death Eaters, but it's a good bet we won't catch You-Know-Who, even if he is there, and then they'll scatter like rats. We need to find out for certain if they are using Malfoy Manor as their headquarters. If they are, we'll have an advantage because we will _know where they are_. We must set up surveillance. Very carefully. We don't want to tip them off."

Arthur nodded. "I'll leave it to you, Remus. I've got to get back." He kissed Molly and Ron and headed for the attic.

"It's too bad we can't send in a spy," Tonks said. Her features shifted and Bellatrix LeStrange stood in her place. Lupin swore.

"No! It's too dangerous. Both Voldemort and Snape are too good at _Legilimency_. Besides, Snape will expect something like that. Unfortunately, the bastard knows all our strengths. And weaknesses."

Bellatrix pouted and tossed her wild black hair.

"You never let me have any fun."

"Yes, I'm stubborn that way. Not allowing you any _fun_ that could end up with you being killed. Damn me."

Ron coughed. "Tonks, can you drop that disguise? It might not fool You-Know-Who, but it's giving me the shivers."

Tonks was instantly back with her canary-colored hair.

"What's with the yellow?" Ron asked. Usually she preferred pink or purple hair.

"I'm in a sunny mood today because last night Remus and I—"

"Nymphadora!" Lupin bellowed. She scowled at him.

"I told you not to call me that."

Lupin's face was crimson. Hermione giggled.

"Can we stick to business?" Lupin choked. "We need to plan this Malfoy scenario."

"Fine. You'd better not leave me out of it, either," Tonks warned as she took her seat again. Remus sighed in relief.

Hermione gasped.

"Oh no! I've got HPD this morning! I nearly forgot!"

"You've barely slept, Hermione. I was going to stand in for you," Ron said.

Hermione shook her head. "I'll be fine. That nap I had did me good. I'm only on four hours today, so I'll be back by noon. I'll sleep then."

Ron scowled and started to argue.

"Honestly, Ron, Harry Protection Duty is the simplest thing. You know nothing ever happens. I'll stand around, have a little chat with Figgy and come back."

She hurried upstairs before he could retort and slipped into a pair of jeans and a U2 concert t-shirt. They had allowed her to purchase clothing for Harry Protection Duty, so now none of them stood around in wizard robes and pointy hats, thank goodness. Arthur really adored his three-piece Muggle suit. She checked the time. She still had almost an hour to relieve Dedalus Diggle, but she wanted to talk to Harry, so she hurried to the attic and departed.


	6. Chapter 6 Harry's Room

**Chapter Six – Harry's Room**

Hermione relieved Diggle and started to walk to the Dursleys' when she realized it was not even 9:00 in the morning. So much had happened already, it seemed much later. She decided to wait awhile and sat on the bench across the street from Number four, Privet Drive. Due to the necessity of Order members lurking about at all times of the day and night, the Order had installed a fake bus stop. Sometimes they were joined by Muggles waiting for a bus that would never arrive. Hermione was certain there had been dozens of complaints lodged with the local bus line.

When she deemed it late enough, she walked across the street and up to the front door. She heard a loud bellow as soon as her finger left the door buzzer and shortly the door was yanked open by a walrus-faced man that could only be Harry's uncle Vernon. Hermione had only before seen him from a distance.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said brusquely. "I'm here to see Harry Potter."

Vernon's eyebrows beetled down until his eyes were nearly invisible.

"Are you… one of… _them_?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm a friend of Harry's from school, if that's what you're asking."

Vernon grabbed her arm and dragged her inside before poking his head nervously out the door to scan for onlookers. Hermione nearly smiled at his antics. He really was quite odd.

"Who is it, Vernon?" Harry's aunt called from down the hall. Hermione motioned to the stairs.

"I'll just… pop on up, all right?"

Vernon's mouth opened and shut, but before he found his voice, Hermione bolted up the stairs.

"Harry?" she called softly, as all the upstairs doors were closed tight. One of the portals flew open and Harry stared at her in surprise.

"_Hermione?_" he asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you. It's about You-Know-What." Ron had begun referring to Horcruxes in that fashion and the name had stuck.

"Well, it's good to see you, anyway." He gave her an awkward hug and stepped aside. "Welcome to my hovel."

She sat down on his unmade bed while he bustled around tidying up.

"The Death Eaters tried to kill my parents," she blurted. Harry stopped clearing up and stared at her. She told him the entire story and showed him the note. She bit her lip in indecision while he read the words and then she said, "I left him one of our old DA coins. He picked it up and I spoke to him briefly this morning."

He sat next to her on the bed.

"That's bloody brilliant," he said admiringly. "I never would have thought to do that. What did he say?"

"Not much. I think he's reluctant to act against Voldemort. I'm really surprised he warned me at all. I mean, he wouldn't have joined the Death Eaters to begin with if he didn't hate Muggle-borns, would he?"

"It's hard to say. Look at Snape, the '_Half-Blood Prince_.'" Harry's voice nearly cracked with bitterness. "Why did he join up?"

Hermione shrugged. "Attracted to power, I suppose."

"Yeah."

"Well, the reason I brought you the news in person is that I haven't mentioned the coin to Lupin and the others. I don't want them to try and force me to contact Devlin—"

"Devlin?"

"That's his name. Unless he made it up, which is possible, but it's all I have at the moment. Anyway, I think it better that we leave him be and let him contact us. I don't want to pressure him. He's got to be under enough strain if he's thinking of betraying Voldemort."

Harry thought about it for a moment and then shrugged.

"Whatever you think is best. It won't be the first secret we've had to keep from the Order. Speaking of secrets, you said you were here about Horcruxes?"

"Not completely, but I had an interesting chat with Lupin this morning about Regulus Black. I looked at the Black tapestry again—do you know he was only eighteen when he died? He was barely out of Hogwarts. How could he have gotten involved so quickly? He was our age, Harry. I felt sorry for him until Lupin told me he was a dark-haired Draco Malfoy."

Harry snorted. "There's you answer, then. Malfoy's neck-deep and he's our age, too. Maybe Voldemort recruited Regulus when he was still in school, like he did Malfoy. He might even have had the same assignment, which could be why he got cold feet."

"I didn't think of that," Hermione said wonderingly. "Maybe, like Malfoy, he couldn't kill Dumbledore."

"But, unlike Malfoy, he didn't have an evil traitor to perform the deed when he failed," Harry snapped. "So it was goodbye, Regulus."

"Right, but all that is beside the point. What I've been trying to figure out is how Regulus knew about _Horcruxes_. How did he know about the locket, and how did he find it? From what you've told me, Dumbledore didn't even guess at the existence of the Horcruxes until your parents died… and Voldemort didn't."

Harry nodded. "All the more reason I have to go to Hogwarts."

"What? You mean return to school? We don't even know if it will reopen—"

"No, I need to go before school opens, _if_ it opens. I need to use Dumbledore's Pensieve. I've only got three and a half weeks of protection left and I don't intend to wait around for Voldemort to swoop down the instant it dissipates. I plan to be long gone from here by then."

"Harry… have you thought about the Dursleys?"

"I try not to," Harry said dryly.

"What I mean is, if Voldemort is willing to go after my parents on the merest chance it will hurt you… don't you think he'll try to kill the Dursleys, too? He can't know how you feel about them."

"Snape could have mentioned it," Harry said, but his words were weak. His emerald gaze went far away and Hermione knew he was searching his feelings. She looked around his room. Everything in sight was broken, worn out, or patched. Her heart suddenly ached for him with such fervor she felt tears prick her eyes. To have grown up here, where nothing had ever been freely given… not even love. Couldn't the Dursleys have spared even that for an orphaned child? She stood and crossed to Harry's desk, because the tears had spilled over and she didn't want him to notice. For a moment, she hated the Dursleys with a fierce passion… and Dumbledore, as well. She tried to wipe her tears away surreptitiously.

Harry was behind her, though, and his hand touched her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She shook her head and choked the words out through the lump in her throat.

"How could he have left you here in this horrible place? How could he stand to do it when so many people loved you from the moment you were born? Lupin, the Weasleys, even _Hagrid _would have been better! Molly would have taken you in a moment. You could have grown up in The Burrow. Not here, not like this!" She caught sight of a broken toy soldier on the desk, held together with carefully wrapped cellotape and felt another rush of tears. "How _could_ he?"

Harry turned her gently around to face him. He smiled at her softly.

"He had to. My mother's protection was here. No matter what I had to face from the Dursleys, it was better than what awaited me out there." He gestured to the window. "He knew Voldemort wasn't gone, and the Death Eaters definitely weren't. Besides, it's nearly over. Soon Number Four, Privet Drive, will only be a series of bad memories. Now, cheer up." He reached up and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. She marveled at how tall he'd gotten. He was half a head taller than Hermione, and she was not a short girl.

She smiled wanly. "You're a really special person, you know that?"

"Not really. I'm just Harry." He laughed and she grinned broadly in return. He clapped her shoulder. "Now, about this Dursley problem. They did take me in, albeit unwillingly, angrily, and grudgingly. They treated me like a house-elf every minute I was in their presence, and their oafish son nearly did Voldemort's job for him six times over." Harry sighed. "But I suppose they don't deserve to die. They certainly don't deserve what the Longbottoms got."

Hermione shuddered. "No one deserves that."

"So. What do we do about it? I'm certainly not going to sacrifice myself to give _them_ blood protection."

Hermione giggled. "That would sort of make the whole exercise pointless. As I see it, we've only got two options. We make this house Unplottable, with you as Secret Keeper… or we move them to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. You told me Dumbledore mentioned it to them last time he was here."

Harry began to smile. As his grin grew wider and wider, she raised a brow in puzzlement. He explained.

"Aunt Petunia is a neat freak. I'm picturing her at Grimmauld Place."

Hermione thought of the musty, dusty, cobwebby, bleak, residence and her smile matched Harry's own. Soon they were laughing aloud.


	7. Chapter 7 Draco's Dilemma

**Chapter Seven - Draco's Dilemma**

Draco was in the library perusing one of his father's particularly nasty books of dark magic. Some of the spells he had mastered, but there were a couple that were intensely difficult. He had the feeling he would need every bit of magic at his disposal before it was done.

"Looking for something specific?" Snape asked from the doorway. Draco sighed in annoyance. His other watchdog—Nott today—was already in attendance; he sat at one of the writing desks with a deck of cards, uninterested in the hundreds of books and scrolls that surrounded him. Nott nodded to Snape, who ignored him.

"Now that you mention it, I've never seen the spell Potter used on me. The one that nearly cut me in two." His jaw tightened at the memory. Far worse than the pain had been the horror of Potter seeing him in a moment of weakness. He had been angry enough to kill—had cast the _Cruciatus Curse_ only because he wanted Potter to writhe before he killed him… If not for the slashing spell, it might have been the end of Potter and Draco would be a Death Eater hero.

Snape interrupted his vengeful musing. "You won't find that spell anywhere, since I invented it. It's called _Sectumsempra_."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Then how did Potter learn it?"

"He found an old book of mine. Did you not wonder how he became such a Potions expert last year?"

"Of course. Especially since he had _Remedial Potions_ the year before!"

Unaccountably, Snape flushed. At the memory of having to give Potter private lessons?

"Indeed. Regrettably, there are quite a few spells in that book, along with my old Potions notes. Luckily, Potter is too stupid to realize what he has and since he nearly killed you, he will be too scared to try many others. Who would he practice on? Weasley?"

"Can you teach me?" Draco asked, suddenly realizing he had his very own Dark Arts teacher. Not _Defense_ Against the Dark Arts, either, but the real thing.

Snape shrugged. "Certainly. As time permits."

Wormtail appeared in the doorway.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you," he said to Snape. His ratlike eyes shifted to Draco and he grinned. "And you."

Draco shoved down a feeling of dread at that happy news and set the book aside.

"Good," he said for Wormtail's sake. "I was getting bored."

The library was right next to the parlour, so the walk of doom was a short one. Draco entered the room with Snape and was surprised to find it pleasantly warm. The fire crackled cheerfully, providing the only light. Heavy black drapes had been drawn over the huge window that looked out over the manicured grounds. Apparently beautiful views were wasted on the Dark Lord.

Voldemort sat in his usual red velvet chair—the one that had once been Draco's father's favorite. The snake was curled before the fire as if asleep, but its tongue flicked out now and again. Snape stepped forward and nodded deferentially.

"It is time," Voldemort said flatly. "Greyback is waiting."

Snape nodded and turned to depart.

"Take the boy with you. I'm sure Fenrir will be glad to see him."

Snape gestured and Draco gladly fell into step behind him. Anything to escape the Dark Lord's sepulcher presence.

"Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen," Snape ordered.

"Where are we going?"

The black eyes shifted to him with something akin to amusement.

"You'll see. You have five minutes."

Draco sighed and went upstairs to take off his pale blue shirt and replace it with black silk. He shrugged on his black Death Eaters robes and started out the door, but he paused at the threshold.

"_Accio coin_," he said brusquely. The Galleon flew out from under the bed and into his outstretched palm. He pocketed it and went out.

ooOoo

It was still overcast, but not raining as it had been the previous day. Snape had _Disapparated_ Draco blind—he had no idea where they were. He wondered if they had located Granger's parents, but doubted it. Much as he despised Granger, he knew she was sharper than the average Death Eater. Even Snape.

They arrived next to a dirt road that was barely more than a track, lined on both sides with stone walls that were falling into disrepair.

Snape stepped onto the road and followed it over a small rise. Draco trailed after him. The road descended and he caught a glimpse of a house nestled among the trees below. As they approached the house, Draco saw a group of people milling before the front gate. There were at least ten of them and he recognized the one that stepped forward to meet Snape—Fenrir Greyback.

The werewolf's cold eyes flicked to Draco and his lips opened to reveal his horrible wolflike smile.

"Hello, Severus. I see you brought my lunch."

"Just get on with it," Snape growled impatiently.

Fenrir tsked. "No need to rush." He shrugged. "There's no one here. I sent Eastwyck through the house to trip any alarms. Nothing."

Snape nodded. "Come, Draco." They moved through the ragged group and Draco tried not to touch any of them without looking like he was avoiding contact. They were foul smelling and filthy, the lot of them. They watched Draco intently and several licked their lips or grinned ferociously. Draco suppressed a shudder. The only thing worse than a disgusting, dirty, hairy werewolf was a pack of disgusting, dirty, hairy werewolves. Thank God the full moon was days away, or the feral excitement emanating from the pack would have been nearly overpowering. He doubted they would have stopped themselves from rending him and Snape to pieces.

They entered the front gate and Draco noticed the front garden, once obviously well tended, was beginning to show signs of neglect. Many of the flowering bushes held bunches of dead petals and weeds poked their heads through the stalks of limp, dying bluebells.

As they entered the kitchen of the strange, ramshackle house, Draco suddenly realized where they were. The huge table inside the kitchen was his first clue. Draco had not eaten in the kitchen at Malfoy Manor since he was a small child and had parked himself there for a midday snack. It was obvious the residents of this house took all their meals in the kitchen, most likely in the absence of a dining room.

The place would have been spotless but for a layer of dust upon everything.

The werewolf pack crowded into the kitchen behind Draco.

"Search for anything relating to the Order of the Phoenix," Snape said. "We're unlikely to find anything, but with so many Weasleys, it's possible one of them slipped up. Make it quick."

The motley crew scattered and Draco followed a number of them up the stairs. They entered rooms at random, so Draco continued on up several flights to the last door. He wondered how it would have felt to live crowded into this small house with so many siblings. No doubt it was loud and frantic. The stairs were worn and creaked loudly when Draco stepped upon them. Several newel posts and stair rails were missing.

The room Draco entered had to belong to Ron Weasley. Several orange Chudley Cannons posters adorned the walls. One spot was bare—the poster must have been prized by Weasley when so many had been left. On a high shelf were dozens of Quidditch action figures floating on their brooms and catching tiny Snitches. Draco recognized many of them, as he had a huge collection of his own. Two beds had been jammed into the tiny room, which was barely a quarter the size of Draco's own room. The beds had been stripped of bedding, but a threadbare rug still lay on the floor. Draco kicked it aside halfheartedly and stomped about, looking for loose floorboards. The desk drawers were filled with odds and ends—quills, ink, piles of wrappers from Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, buttons and balls of string… The small wardrobe was completely empty. Weasley must have taken every set of clothing he owned. All four of them, Draco sneered.

He left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find the werewolves had been far more thorough—and rather more energetic—in their search. Broken items were strewn through the halls and the smell of dust hung thick in the air. Draco sidestepped over a broken pot and found himself in a demolished room. The frequency of the color pink identified it as a girl's room, but that was the only remaining factor to distinguish it. The bed was overturned and the mattress was torn to shreds. The desk was smashed to kindling and holes had been torn in walls and floor. The slashed posters were empty of occupants; no doubt they cowered upon intact posters elsewhere in the house.

Small bottles and jars lay on the floor in colorful shards and their contents darkened ruined scrolls and torn books. The total destruction of Ginny Weasley's room was complete. Strangely, Draco felt no satisfaction at the sight. Wanton, excessive violence was not the Malfoy way. A tiny glass flower caught his eye. It glittered on the ruined carpet, intact but for a shattered stem. Draco's mother had something similar on her dressing table, larger and made of finest crystal. Draco's lips twisted, but he could not define his feelings.

"Let's go, there's nothing here," someone grunted from the door. Draco turned and went out. They all regrouped near the Weasleys' front gate with wands drawn.

"_Incendio!_" cried several voices at once. A number of werewolves cavorted merrily and began tearing slats from the fence and ripping bushes from the ground to add to the growing conflagration.

Draco watched impassively as The Burrow, former home to unknown generations of Weasleys, became a huge column of flame. Beside him, Snape's features twisted into a rare smile and his black eyes glowed red in the flicker of firelight.

"Does it feel good to know the blood-traitors will weep long and hard over this?"

Draco forced his lips into a cheerful smile, though he thought his jaw would crack from the strain of it. If he could have put a name to his feelings at that moment, he was certain the word "good" would not have been anywhere in the running. All he could think of were Ron Weasley's Quidditch toys turning into so much ash, and a tiny glass rose becoming a shapeless dollop of red liquid.

_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer._ Apparently, he was not an arsonist, either.

ooOoo

They watched the fire until the black column of smoke billowed high into the air and it was obvious the house could not be saved.

Snape nudged Draco.

"Let's go. The smoke might draw Muggle attention and we really don't want to be here if that happens."

Draco made a face. Greyback and his band would happily rip inquisitive Muggles to pieces. They returned to the Malfoy kitchen and Draco let Snape report to You-Know-Who alone. He went straight to his room and stripped off his clothing. It only vaguely smelled of smoke, but it was enough to sicken Draco. He pulled on his velvet dressing gown.

"Cully!" he called. When the house-elf appeared and groveled before him, Draco kicked the pile of clothing. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, "Burn them," but he knew he'd be taken to task for disposing of his new "uniform."

"My clothes need cleaning. And draw my bath." It was early for his routine bath, but he felt unclean. Cully disappeared with his clothes. No Malfoy was afraid to give house-elves clothing as long as they were in Malfoy Manor. It had been carefully explained to them that _nothing_ in the house belonged to the elves, _ever_.

The door flew open and Theodore Nott, Sr. appeared, panting from his dash up the stairs.

"Damn it!" Draco yelled. "Do you imbeciles honestly think I'm going to _Apparate_ out of here and leave my parents to be tortured and killed by that freak in the parlour?"

Nott's face went as pale as a hen's egg and his jaw worked soundlessly. Cully reappeared with a soft pop.

"Here, Master," he whined, holding out a hand. Draco took the coin he had inadvertently left in a pocket. Cully conjured jugs of hot water and began to fill Draco's tub. Nott seemed at a loss.

"Why don't you send my father up here to be my guard dog? It's highly unlikely we will both jaunt off and leave Mother to the Dark Lord's less than tender mercies, don't you think? I'd like to speak with him. Feel free to eavesdrop."

Nott flushed, finally.

"I don't like this any better than you, Draco! If I had my druthers, I'd be at the nearest pub drowning myself in firewhiskey!"

Draco glared at him and walked the coin across the backs of his fingers in agitation. He did not have any sympathy to spare at the moment. He raised a brow at Nott in cold expectation.

Nott sagged a bit and sighed. "I'll get Lucius."

Draco set his dressing gown aside and stepped into the scalding tub while Cully waited anxiously nearby. Draco expelled a long breath as the hot water soaked into his skin. The bubbles rose to his chin. He held his breath and went under for a long moment.

"Shall Cully wash Master Draco's hair?" Cully asked when he emerged. Draco nodded and Cully soaped his hair with imported shampoo. Draco loved having his hair washed. It was hard to find moments of pure pleasure at Malfoy Manor, which was one reason Draco treasured his baths. Solitude, hot water, and a much-needed head-massage. It nearly succeeded in relieving his headache.

Draco submerged to rinse and when he came up, the house-elf was gone and his father was present. Draco dragged a wet hand through his hair to pull it out of his eyes. He blinked for a moment to clear his vision.

"You wanted to see me?" Lucius asked. Draco noticed he'd left the door open. His father looked as cool and unruffled as ever. His robes were solid black. He always seemed to wear black these days, as if he were in mourning. It hadn't always been so. Draco remembered a time they had gone on holiday to the Continent. Draco was six. They had traveled to France, Spain, and Italy. He remembered his father, dressed in robes of silver-blue, dancing with his mother on an ancient stone balcony overlooking the ocean, both of them slightly drunk and laughing as they stared into each other's eyes… Draco's heart nearly cracked at the memory. He wondered if they would ever look at each other that way again.

Draco spoke to his father in flawless French.

"Do you think the snake can understand French?"

"I doubt it," Lucius replied in the same language. His silver eyes, so like Draco's, flicked about the room. Although quite large, Nagini was still a snake and could slither into very small spaces and hide beneath nearly any piece of furniture. They had found the creature, most unexpectedly, all over the house. The Dark Lord's little venomous spy, as if he needed another.

Draco picked up his wand from the tub side tray and cast _Muffliato_ for the benefit of any eavesdroppers. For certain, Bellatrix and the other Lestranges spoke French.

"What does he want?" Draco asked. "I mean, at the end of it all. What does he want?"

Lucius _Accioed_ the desk chair and sat down. He rested one black boot casually upon his other knee.

"He wants to destroy everything. I think, at one time, he just wanted power and control. Last time, he spoke of taking over the Ministry of Magic and of ousting all Muggle-borns and blood-traitors. He wanted to create laws to return the wizarding world to a state of purity it hasn't known since the days of Salazar Slytherin."

For the first time in his life, Draco pondered the validity of the pureblood rhetoric he'd grown up with. There had never been a "state of purity" in Slytherin's time. Wasn't that why Salazar had rebelled against the other Houses? Slytherin, Grindelwald, Voldemort, and now Draco himself had been fighting the Mudblood "scourge" for over a thousand years. And Muggle-borns outnumbered the purebloods at least three to one. What if it were a losing battle? He yanked his attention back to his father.

"…it seems he's gone mad. He no longer speaks of taking over the Ministry--he talks of destroying it. He's still obsessed with Hogwarts, but no longer does he see himself as the Headmaster. He sees himself as its conqueror. He wants to open the school, with himself as its Head--not to teach students how to turn teacups into butterflies, but to teach them to kill. He plans to train an army and crush everyone in the wizarding world that stands in his way. When that is done, when he is strong enough, he will take the war _out there_, to the Muggles. _That is_ _what he wants_."

Draco could not disguise his horror. He had never taken a Muggle Studies class, nor had he spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the Muggle world, but he had been raised on stories about them. The whole reason one had to be careful at all times, never to be spotted by a Muggle, never to let them know magic existed… because there were billions of them. How could Voldemort possibly dream of taking on the Muggle world? He could kill hundreds a day and still there would be more and more and more… and who knew what weapons they had at their disposal? Draco had once overheard a Mudblood telling a friend that a group of Muggles had once blown up an entire Muggle city. _A_ _city_.

"He's insane," Draco whispered.

Lucius nodded and smiled that ice-cold smile that never touched his eyes--the one Draco had spent hours before the mirror trying to emulate.

"Now you know."

"He'll kill us all," Draco said numbly. Lucius stood abruptly.

"No, he will not. The Malfoys will survive. We will bow and scrape and grovel and kill and torture if we must, but we will survive. Do you understand, Draco?" His eyes burned into Draco's like silver fire. "Do not let a foolish attack of morality blind you into doing something stupid. We _will_ survive." Lucius moved as if to leave, but paused. "Guard your thoughts well and do not fall too deeply into the trap of the Dark Lord's words. The pendulum may yet swing."

With a wand flick, he cancelled the spell and went out. Draco thought about his words. His father had always been good at landing on his feet. He had avoided Azkaban after the first war, and yet had been accepted back into Voldemort's circle at his return. He had been respected highly among the Ministry officials and the Hogwart's governors until Voldemort had abandoned him at the battle over the stupid prophecy. That whole fiasco had been a huge blunder on old Snake Face's part. Not only had he lost the prophecy, but he had lost most of his followers, too. It had been temporary, yes, but Lucius had been far more useful as a Ministry liaison than a Death Eater lapdog, in Draco's opinion.

Voldemort may once have been a genius, but it looked as if thirteen years as a vaporous ghost had resulted in madness and a loss of intelligence. Draco leaned his head against the tub in despair. The Malfoys will survive. To what end? To see the wizarding world overrun and destroyed by Muggles?

The hot water did not dispel the sudden finger of icy fear that traced its way down Draco's spine and settled into his belly in a cold lump.

Voldemort had to be stopped. Draco swallowed hard. That mere thought would be a death sentence should Voldemort pluck it from his mind. As if on cue, Nott appeared in the open doorway.

"The Dark Lord wants to see you."

Draco tried on his father's cold smile and squelched an instinctive flutter of panic.

"Yes, I rather thought he would."


	8. Chapter 8 Grimmauld Place

**Chapter Eight – Grimmauld Place**

Uncle Vernon was bellowing.

"Absolutely not! We will not go hieing off to hide amongst… amongst…" Vernon's words trailed off when he was unable to think of a suitable ending for his sentence, likely recalling the time Harry had blown up his sister, Marge, without even trying—and those ranged before him were a lot more competent.

Harry was enjoying the show. Lupin, Tonks, Hermione, and Mad-Eye Moody had appeared on the Dursleys' doorstep late Sunday afternoon, much to the Dursleys' shock, as Harry had intentionally neglected to mention the meeting.

Harry interrupted Lupin, who was trying to reason with Vernon—a huge waste of time, Harry knew.

"Listen, it's your decision, of course. We will not force you to go. Frankly, I don't care, either way. But should you choose to stay here, I think you should be prepared. Let me tell you a little bit about _Lord_ Voldemort." Lupin and Tonks cringed at the name, but Hermione didn't flinch and Moody was too busy staring out the window searching for threats to react.

Harry told them everything he could recall about Voldemort, beginning with the night his parents were killed. He told them about Quirrell and about the Chamber of Secrets. He touched on Barty Crouch Jr. and the dementors. He spared no detail of Cedric's death and Voldemort's resurrection. He touched on the battle for the Prophecy and described Dumbledore's death, leaving out only the Horcrux search.

Hermione broke in when Harry's voice cracked with emotion.

"The Death Eaters tried to kill my parents two days ago. They are non-magical, like yourselves. Voldemort has control of the dementors. He also has a pack of vicious werewolves to do his bidding." She threw an apologetic glance at Lupin.

Dudley, who had been grudgingly present for the affair due to a bad cold that kept him from roaming the neighborhood causing trouble, paled at the mention of dementors.

"So you see," Hermione concluded, "Voldemort will most likely send someone after you. Anyone even remotely associated with Harry is at risk, and the protection placed upon this house will be gone at the end of this month. As Harry said, you can allow us to protect you, or you can take your chances."

"We should give you some time to discuss it," Lupid said diplomatically. "Harry, we will help you get your things together."

The non-Muggles trooped upstairs to Harry's room, although he had never really unpacked anything after his last return from Hogwarts, except for clothing. Even that was tidily folded upon his bed (which was neatly made, for once) and ready to be stowed in his trunk.

Hermione sat on Harry's bed while Tonks went to Hedwig's cage to give her an owl treat. Lupin paced nervously and Harry perched on the corner of his bed next to Hermione after moving his clothes aside.

"What do you think they'll do?" Hermione asked. "It was difficult enough to convince my parents to move—and they don't go through life pretending the wizarding world doesn't exist!"

Moody was parked at the door and his magical eye was pointing downward.

"They are arguing," he reported, which was obvious, as they could all hear Uncle Vernon hollering, even though he was trying to be quiet about it. "Petunia wants to go—I think she knows enough to be properly scared. Dudley doesn't want to go, but he doesn't want to be left for the dementors, either. Boy's not quite as thick as he looks. Vernon wants to stay, but Petunia wants to know how he plans to protect them. He's blustering, but she got him, there. He says he'll buy a gun, whatever that is. She asks how he plans to use it if one of _them_ pops into their bedroom and points a wand at them. Dudley pipes up that a gun probably wouldn't stop a dementor, anyway."

"What do you know," Harry said, "He really isn't as thick as he looks. That's a switch."

"They've decided to go, but Vernon wants a time limit. Looks like you'd better kill You-Know-Who quick, Harry."

"Great idea," Harry said dryly. "I'll get right on that."

They went back downstairs and it was decided that the Dursleys would drive their car. Hermione would ride with them and guide them to Grimmauld Place. The rest of them would fly.

"We will not be taking a ridiculous, circuitous route, either, Alastor," Lupin said with finality. "We're in far more danger from Severus Snape than from anyone that might follow us. Let's just get there."

They waited for the Dursleys to pack and Harry said nothing when Dudley stowed a small television, portable stereo, and Nintendo system in the car. Surprisingly, Hermione didn't mention the lack of electricity, either. She probably knew it would start another round of protests from both Vernon and Dudley. It was nearly dark when the car finally pulled out of the drive.

Harry looked carefully around his room to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything. He waited to see if he would feel any sadness or remorse, knowing he looked at Number Four, Privet Drive for the last time. Not surprisingly, the only sadness he felt was in the knowledge that sixteen years of accumulated belongings fit easily into a single trunk. If Dudley ever moved out, the Dursleys' would have to hire a moving truck.

Harry sighed and dragged his trunk downstairs. He wished they could just _Apparate_ to Grimmauld Place, but Rufus Scrimgeour would jump at any excuse to accuse Harry of misdeeds, so he had been very careful to use no magic at all. Just a few more days and he'd be able to do whatever he wanted. Lupin could have _Apparated_ Harry, but his trunk was a bit of an issue. It was easier to fly. Frankly, Harry was looking forward to it. The only time he felt really free was when he was on a broom.

They managed to beat the Dursleys to Grimmauld Place, even though Mad-Eye Moody insisted they backtrack a few times, just to be safe. Harry felt a sense of relief when he walked through the door of the old Black residence. There was sadness, of course, when he remembered the times Sirius had yanked the curtains over his mother's portrait, or smiled languidly in greeting, or brooded angrily in the kitchen, but stronger than the sorrow was his strange sense of homecoming. Sirius had willed the house to Harry and most of Harry's memories of his godfather resided here, in this dusty, dark place. The house was suddenly very precious to him and he vowed to someday turn it into the type of home Sirius would have enjoyed. A place devoid of the wicked stigma of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Harry's reverie was broken by a question from Tonks.

"Where is everyone?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared in the hallway with a lit wand. His dark face was grim.

"What's happened?" Lupin asked. Kingsley shook his head and turned away. They hastily dropped their belongings and hurried after him.

The Weasleys were gathered in the kitchen. Molly was sobbing in Arthur's arms, and tears streamed freely down Ginny's face. Ron looked angry, although his cheeks were wet, also. Bill and Fleur were dry-eyed, although Fleur was curled in Bill's lap and her hand caressed his face as if to comfort him. Harry was stricken. Was it Fred and George? Charlie? Percy?

"The Burrow has been burned to the ground," Arthur said bluntly before Harry's questions were uttered. "Bill stopped by to get something. All that was left was smoldering…" He stopped, unable to continue, and Molly wailed anew. Harry dropped into a chair, stunned. First Hermione's parents, now The Burrow. What next?

"Who… who was it?"

"Greyback's band, most likely," Bill replied. "There were a lot of tracks made by bare feet. And a few sets of boot tracks, so Death Eaters were there, also."

"Thank God no one was home," Molly said and hiccupped. "If Bill had stopped by earlier, he might have been… he might have been…"

"Stop it, Mother," Bill said sharply. "I would have been smart enough to _Apparate_ out of there immediately, so stop dwelling on what might have been. What _has_ been is bad enough."

"I left all my perfume bottles," Ginny whispered. "I didn't want them to get broken."

"My Quidditch figures… and my old chess set… I didn't bring it because there's already one here…" Ron's voice was hoarse.

"Gideon's cedar chest," Molly moaned. "I left it in our room."

Harry felt sick listening to the Weasleys recount their lost items. The family had so little to begin with that every single thing was precious.

Arthur cleared his throat bravely.

"Now, now. We all knew this would be a possibility. We have each other, after all, and that's the most important thing. None of us were so much as scratched."

Molly gasped. "What if they attack Fred and George?"

Lupin and Arthur spoke at the same moment to reassure her.

"They won't blatantly attack in Diagon Alley."

"The Ministry has increased the Guard at all wizarding locations in London."

"I'll be sympathetic to any Death Eaters that try to attack Fred and George," Harry said ruefully, hoping to lighten the mood. "They could stave off an army with some of the items in that shop of theirs."

Even Ron smiled at that. "Remember the fireworks they used on Umbridge?"

"And the swamp," said Ginny quietly. "That was some swamp."

Before they could get going on a good Fred and George reminiscence, the door opened downstairs and the Dursleys got their first look at their new home. Unfortunately, Petunia's shriek of horror and Vernon's answering bellow woke up the portrait of Sirius's mother, and bedlam quickly erupted from there. Thirty minutes later, the portrait was quiet, the Dursleys were sulking in their tiny, dark rooms, and the rest of the Order was speaking quietly in the kitchen.

"Do you think they'll like it here?" Arther asked Harry eagerly. "Did they bring many Muggle items with them? I'd really like to ask them about—"

"Arthur, I forbid you to torment the Muggles," Molly said with a warning glare in her eyes. "It's going to be difficult enough for them in this awful house without you asking them foolish questions, especially as we don't know how long they'll have to be shut up in here…"

"Sixteen years sounds about right to me," Ron muttered to Harry, who nearly choked on his tea and coughed for five minutes while Ron pounded him on the back. The elders started making changes to their plan to scout Malfoy Manor, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione went upstairs. On the way, Ron told Hermione about the destruction of The Burrow. She was properly horrified.

"Oh Ron, I'm so sorry. No wonder everyone seemed so upset!"

They entered the room Ron and Harry always shared. Harry was glad to see at least one Chudley Cannons poster had been spared from The Burrow. Ron had placed it over his bed. It was the only bright spot in the dreary room.

Hermione said, "It's a good thing we brought Harry's relatives here. The Death Eaters are getting serious."

"All the more reason to get out of here and find those bloody Horcruxes," Harry said. "I want to leave for Hogwarts tomorrow."

"What are we going to tell the others?"

"I'll leave them a note."

Hermione clucked disapprovingly. "Harry, they'll be frantic. They're here to protect you."

"I'm tired of being protected! Let them do something worthwhile, like stopping the Death Eaters from burning down people's houses and trying to kill Muggles!"

She rolled her eyes, but seemed to know it was pointless to argue with him when he was in a yelling frame of mind.

"Tell them whatever you want," Harry said adamantly. "But, I'm leaving tomorrow."

"How do you plan to get there?"

"Since I can't _Apparate_, you mean? Well, with so many wizards around here, I doubt the Ministry will even guess an underage wizard is _Apparating_…"

"Oh no! You don't dare _Apparate_ without a license, Harry, you'll get into terrible trouble—" Hermione began.

"Really? More trouble than I'm in with a psychopathic, deathless wizard trying to turn me into a pile of ash the instant I step a toe out of my hiding place?"

Ron burst out laughing and Hermione glared.

"It's not funny, Ronald! I'm just trying to keep the Ministry off Harry's back!"

"The Ministry will never be off Harry's back," Ron snorted. "Not as long as the idiots in charge keep acting like Dumbledore was some crackpot out to discredit them."

"See? Even Ron knows."

Hermione flounced to the door. "Fine. I see you two are determined to gang up on me, as usual. I'm going to see Ginny."

"Hermione!" Harry called before she could shut the door on them. She paused and finally turned around to look at him when he didn't reply. Harry grinned at her.

"Are you coming to Hogwarts with us?"

She flushed and he knew she was trying to hold on to her indignation.

"I wouldn't miss it," she said finally.

The door closed.


	9. Chapter 9 Draco's Conversations

**Chapter Nine – Draco's Conversations**

Draco took his time dressing; a miniscule act of defiance. He dropped the coin on his desk, smoothed his hair once more in the mirror, and headed downstairs. He took the main staircase this time as a small reminder that he was the heir of the manor.

He knocked lightly on the parlour door and was not startled when Wormtail yanked it open. He wondered if Pettigrew had time to eat and sleep between grovelings.

The Dark Lord was not seated in his throne, for once. Instead, he stood before the large table against the right hand wall, perusing a scattering of paper that lay upon it.

"Come here, young Malfoy," he said without looking up. Draco approached, trying to affect a proper sycophantic walk and failing miserably. He managed the hangdog expression, though, by remembering how Crabbe and Goyle used to look whenever Draco berated them. Wearing it now, he was surprised neither of them had ever punched him. Subservience sucked.

Voldemort's horrible red eyes fastened on Draco's and the cringing became a whole lot easier. It wasn't too difficult to bow down before someone that would curse you into oblivion as easily as swatting a fly. Draco's palms felt suddenly clammy.

"Did you enjoy your outing today?"

Draco nearly shrugged, his usual response to adult questioning, but sensed at the last moment that any such casual display would enrage the Dark Lord.

"Assuredly," he said formally. "It was quite enjoyable to see the blood-traitors receive what they deserve." He tried to remember every confrontation he'd ever had with the Weasleys. He felt the familiar stirring of hatred when he remembered Ginny cursing him; Ron attacking him and giving him a black eye during a first-year Quidditch match, Fred and George hexing him after the Tri-Wizard tournament… "I despise the Weasleys," he added truthfully.

Voldemort laughed; a horrible, chilling sound.

"Any yet, none of the Weasels were home. A pity, Draco, that you are yet unblooded. Perhaps tomorrow you shall have another chance."

Questions rose in Draco's mind, but he forced them aside.

"Yes, Master," he said simply. Voldemort showed his pointed teeth; apparently please with Draco's response.

"You are a true son of Lucius. Ever prudent, ever wise, ever thinking. Sometimes I wonder if the Malfoys do not think too much."

Draco swallowed and his mouth was suddenly dry. He wasn't sure of a proper response. Voldemort leaned close to Draco, close enough that he could feel the Dark Lord's breath on his face.

"Even now, your little mind is spinning away, isn't it, Draco Malfoy? Thinking… thinking… thinking… Tell me," Voldemort said breathily, too intimately close, "What did you and your father discuss upstairs?"

The sudden change of topic sent ice through Draco's veins and he felt his throat tighten involuntarily.

"I asked him about your goals, Master," Draco whispered, giving massive thanks that he didn't have to lie about that. He felt something rustle across his boot and wanted to look down, but he could not tear his eyes away from the reptilian orbs that bored into him. Draco concentrated hard on everything his knew about _Occlumency_.

"And what did Lucius say about my goals?"

"He said you want to destroy the Ministry and punish the Mudbloods," Draco replied. Still the truth. He felt a scraping around his calves.

"Indeed. And how do you feel about that, Draco Malfoy?"

Now he was treading on dangerous ground. Draco thought hard about Harry Potter. Harry Potter making Seeker as a First Year. Harry as Dumbledore's pet boy—winning the House Cup again and again. Harry riding the stupid hippogriff. Harry nearly cutting him in two with a dark magic spell; he poured every ounce of hatred and rage into his next words, knowing that any sign of weakness would be the end of him.

"A worthy ambition, Master," he gritted.

"And does your father feel the same?" Voldemort breathed.

"Assuredly," Draco said as though surprised at the question. He suddenly realized the questions had not been meant to trap Draco at all, but had been yet another test to verify Lucius's loyalty.

Voldemort suddenly turned away and went back to his scrolls as though Draco was no longer present.

"You may release him, Nagini. Draco has not betrayed me. Yet."

Draco looked down finally, to see the huge snake that had curled itself around his lower legs. The snake appeared to smile and its glistening fangs were uncomfortably close to Draco's thigh. Reluctantly, it seemed, the coils loosened and the snake slithered away toward the fire, hissing. Voldemort hissed back—Parseltongue, no doubt. Before he turned away, Draco glanced at the huge scroll sprawled open at the top of the heap. It looked like a map—or a floorplan.

"You may go," the Dark Lord said absently. Draco did not need to be told twice.

He lay in bed that night with the book of dark spells in his lap, although he wasn't seeing any of the words. A candle flickered on his bedside stand, making shadows jump across the walls of his room. His watchdog—Avery this time—was already sleeping on the cot. As snorers went, Avery was one of the worst. If Draco got a lick of sleep, it would be a miracle.

He toyed absently with Hermione Granger's coin while his eyes passed over the words of a complex spell for the sixth time. He kept thinking about his father's words. _Destroying the Ministry. Obsessed with Hogwarts. Its conqueror. Take the war to the Muggles._ Draco thought about contacting Granger, but he couldn't think of a good reason why. He was rather surprised that he hadn't heard from her; he had expected to be constantly barraged with questions.

As if the thought had activated it, the Galleon suddenly went hot. Draco dropped it in surprise and had to fish for it among the sheets for a moment. The candlelight was too dim to make out the tiny words, so he lit the tip of his wand in a tiny, bright glow.

_Devlin?_ it read. He sent an affirmative. _Did you know? About the fire?_

Draco considered pretending ignorance, but he knew what she was asking.

_Yes, but not soon enough to stop it._ The words made Draco pause. He wondered if he _would_ have warned them, if he had known beforehand. It was the _Weasleys_, after all. Muggle-lovers; blood-traitors; those who hated Draco and his family because of their wealth and position. Draco sighed. He took no pleasure in the fact that the Weasleys were now homeless and their meager possessions had been burned to the ground, but to be honest with himself, he knew he probably wouldn't have stopped it. Of course, Granger didn't need to know that. His lip curled slightly. So much for turning over a new leaf.

_Is it safe to talk?_ she asked.

_You might have asked that before, but yes._

_You're right. We need a password. So that I know it's you and that you can reply without getting into trouble._

_Fine._ He rolled his eyes. That was Granger for you. Little Miss Logic.

_I know. I'll send a silly phrase first, so if someone else has it, they'll think it's merely a trick coin._

It took three sendings for her to fit all that around the edge of the Galleon. She continued: _I've got it. I'll send "Come to Zonko's" and if there is no response, I'll know you can't reply or that you don't have the coin._

_Brilliant_, Draco sent, humoring her. He wondered why he had picked up the coin in the first place, and why he kept it. He certainly didn't plan to spend his spare time chattering with Potter's external brain. It was bad enough listening to her nonstop babbling in class.

There was an extremely long pause and Draco began to think she had given up.

_Devlin?_ it asked again.

_Yes?_

_Thank you. I forgot to tell you last time._

Draco flushed and dropped the coin. You sure as hell wouldn't be thanking me if you knew I was Draco Malfoy. The idea struck him as incongruously funny. Draco Malfoy had Hermione Granger's everlasting gratitude. The devil should be ordering mittens and skis about now.

He picked up the coin. She had written, _You aren't very communicative, are you?_

_Don't you think you're communicative enough for both of us?_

_I suppose that's true. Can you tell me where you are?_

_No._

_Can you tell me about yourself?_

_I'd rather not._

_Can you tell me what the weather is like?_ He grinned at her frustration.

_I'd have to look out the window and I'm quite cozy at the moment._

_Are you in bed?_

The thought of Hermione Granger picturing him in bed made Draco nearly as uncomfortable as speaking to the Dark Lord while a venomous snake crawled through his legs.

_Yes,_ he admitted.

_Are you a young person or an old person?_

_Not quite young, not quite old._

_Male?_

_Assuredly._

_Scars?_

_A small one on my left buttock where an amorous lover got carried away._

_I suppose I didn't need to know that._

_I suppose you shouldn't have asked._

_Sorry, I just want to know more about you._

_You're probably better off not knowing._

There was another long pause. He almost sent her a question, suddenly reluctant to end the conversation, but words formed again.

_This scar of yours…bite mark, fingernails, or wand-inflicted?_

Draco almost laughed aloud at the question.

_I lied. My skin is utterly flawless and soft as spun silk._

_You are handsome enough to be conceited, then?_

_No, I look like a goblin. With flawless skin._

_Have you told me anything truthful tonight?_ she asked.

_Yes._

_Which part?_

_The last part. I'd never lie about my satiny skin._

_Goodnight, Devlin Whitehorn._

_Goodnight, Granger._

He smiled and put out his wand. Who would have guessed a conversation with Hermione Granger might actually be… fun? He blew out the candle and tried to shut out Avery's snores. He should have told Hermione about the planned attack for tomorrow, but what good would it have done? Draco didn't know where, when, or why. He'd just have to wait and see.


	10. Chapter 10 Broken Dreams

**Chapter Ten – Broken Dreams**

Harry awoke relatively early, but lay in bed thinking until he heard Ron stirring. There was no need to rush off to Hogwarts on an empty stomach. He could hear muffled activity from downstairs, no doubt Bill and Mr. Weasley preparing to hurry off to work. Harry wondered if Uncle Vernon planned to go to work today… Most likely he would flee as soon as possible, using his job as an excuse to escape. Harry felt a twinge of guilt about leaving the Dursleys here with poor Mrs. Weasley and Lupin to deal with.

Ron yawned and sat up right before Hermione knocked once and entered. Ron cried out and yanked the covers up to his chin.

"Hermione! What if we weren't decent?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like I've never seen you two in pajamas, before. Come on, then, before Ginny gets up and demands to come with us. You know how she is."

That galvanized Ron out of bed and he yanked on clothing as Hermione disappeared downstairs. Harry joined him at a slower pace until Ron said, "She's right. Better hurry. Ginny will set up a huge row and Mum will have our necks. We'll have to sneak out."

Harry nodded and stuffed his Invisibility Cloak into a large pouch that he slung over his shoulder. Ron threw some Chocolate Frogs on top of it and shrugged when Harry grinned.

"We might get hungry."

They trooped downstairs, trying to look innocent. Mrs. Weasley didn't notice, as she was talking to Professor McGonagall.

"Professor!" Harry said happily and sat at the table next to Hermione. Lupin joined them a moment later and Mrs. Weasley bustled around filling plates and mugs with short flicks of her wand.

"Hello, Harry," McGonagall said. "It's good to see you."

"You, too, Professor."

"Well, I've got some good news, I suppose. I received word yesterday from the governors. They have decided to allow the school to reopen. I'm not certain how many parents will feel it is safe enough to send their students… but Hogwarts will be open, nonetheless." She sighed. "Now I have the difficult task of locating suitable new teachers. I can continue to teach Transfiguration, if necessary, although I'd rather not spare the time. This could prove to be a dangerous year and I'm not… well, I'm not Albus Dumbledore, am I? Who can I possibly find to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? This year, especially, when it could be the most important thing the students learn."

Harry was quiet. Not only did he have no input whatsoever in response to teacher selection, but the since he wasn't returning to school in September, he also wasn't terribly interested. He didn't intend to divulge that tidbit of knowledge quite yet, though.

"Actually, Professor, are you returning to Hogwarts today?"

"Yes. There are many preparations to make, and letters to be sent. Heavens, the letters should have gone out to several First Years already!"

"Can I… _we_ come with you?"

Molly made a protesting noise, but McGonagall was already speaking.

"Yes, Remus informed me that you wished to use Albus's Pensieve, although what good it might be to you, I've no idea. I assume it has something to do with the… matter you refuse to divulge?"

Harry nodded.

She sighed. "Very well, then. I suppose Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will be accompanying you?"

Ron glared at his mother so fiercely that she actually clamped her jaw shut and spun away to slam crockery about without speaking. Harry nodded again.

Hestia Jones entered the kitchen, giggling. Her pink cheeks were pinker than usual and she seemed somewhat breathless.

"My goodness, I have Harry Protection Duty today and I completely forgot he was here! I went all the way to Number Four, Privet Drive and hung about wondering why the house was dark at this hour. I had a brief chat with Arabella, who is keeping an eye on things there, just in case."

"Good, you can accompany us to Hogwarts," McGonagall decided. "Where is Mad-Eye this morning?"

"Spying on Malfoy Manor with Tonks," Lupin replied and cringed a bit. "They had better report back soon."

"They've only been gone three hours, Remus," said Sturgis Podmore, who had been dozing in the corner, unnoticed by Harry. Lupin scowled.

"Well, we'd better get going, then," McGonagall said. "I have much to do."

"Professor?" Harry asked tentatively. "Would you mind terribly if we stopped off first… at Godric's Hollow? You know where it is, don't you?"

There was shocked silence in the room, as Harry had only mentioned the idea to Ron and Hermione. Professor McGonagall looked taken aback.

"You've never been there?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sounding surprised. "Albus never took you?"

Harry shook his head.

Mrs. Weasley looked as though she might burst into tears. "Oh, you poor boy! If only I'd known! We should have… well, why didn't we ever think of it?" Harry hastened to reassure her.

"It's okay. I don't think I was quite ready, until now."

"Of course, Harry," McGonagall said quietly. "We'll take you."

"I'll come along," Sturgis said and rose from his chair. "I doubt He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is watching the place, but one never knows, eh?"

They appeared in what was once a back yard. The grass was knee high and still wet with morning dew. Hedgerows surrounded the yard, overgrown and tangled. A graveled path was nearly invisible due to the weeds choking it. A gnarled apple tree in one corner showed the beginnings of apples peering among the twisted branches.

Harry barely noticed his surroundings—his eyes were fixed on the crumbling foundation visible in the center of the greenery. A single chimney, intact but for a few missing bricks at the top, jutted into the air like an ancient obelisk. He walked forward, ignoring the grasses that slapped wetly against his legs. There really wasn't much to see. A few burnt out, broken timbers lay at the center of the ruins, almost invisible due to a mass of vines that had reclaimed the grounds.

Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. This was where it had all begun for him—and ended for his parents. He looked around at the idyllic countryside that surrounded the remains of the cottage. The cottage had been relatively isolated, like most wizard houses. A quaint country lane meandered past the broken front fence and through a gap between the hills. For a moment, Harry imagined growing up in this place. He would have climbed the tree, played in the dirt of the road, slid down the snowy hillsides in winter, and run home to comforting kisses whenever he banged his knee. He would have grown up knowing about magic, playing Quidditch, and waited expectantly for his invitation letter from Hogwarts… Amidst a rush of overwhelming sadness, he felt a terrible resolve. Voldemort had stolen more than his parents. He had taken away his chance for a happy childhood. He had eradicated picnics and birthdays and joy-filled Christmases.

Ron and Hermione were suddenly beside him. Tears streamed down Hermione's cheeks. She always seemed to know what Harry was feeling. He glanced at Ron's stricken face and realized that although he had lost so much on that horrible October night, the circumstances had gained him the two greatest friends anyone could ever know. If he had grown up peaceful, sheltered, and loved, he would have been a different person. Even if he had met Ron and Hermione, they would never have faced the challenges thrown at them over the past six years. They would never have been as close to him as they were right now.

The tears Harry had held back began to fall at last and he put an arm around his friends. They held him tightly, bolstering him before the ruins of what might have been as they did through every situation in his abnormal life.

They stood together in silence for a long time and then McGonagall stepped forward and cleared her throat.

"Walk this way," she said quietly and pushed a path through the wet stalks and around the foundation. The group walked silently up the deserted road. They passed no other houses on the gravel lane that wound through a copse of trees and over a small bridge that spanned a burbling brook. At the top of a small rise, they came to a wrought-iron fence partially covered in old-fashioned pink roses. The heady scent filled the air and already bees were busy gathering nectar. It seemed very peaceful.

The gate looked rusted open and it dangled slightly. Professor McGonagall led the way into the small cemetery. They passed several groups of gravestones with names Harry did not recognize and stopped at last before two white marble headstones, simply inscribed.

James Alaric Potter – 1958 – 1981 Beloved Husband and Father

Lily Evans Potter – 1958 – 1981 Beloved Wife and Mother

McGonagall knelt and removed the stems of dead flora that rested upon the graves. She conjured two huge bouquets of fresh flowers in vibrant colors and placed a bundle before each headstone. Then she withdrew with the others and left Harry alone.

Now that he was here, Harry wasn't certain what to do. He had felt closer to his parents looking into the Mirror of Erised—it seemed as though their spirits had been present there. Here, he felt nothing. He was strangely comforted by the thought. His parents were not in this place, in this cold bit of earth. Luna was right—they were beyond the veil, reunited with Sirius once more. He smiled softly at the thought.

Hermione watched Harry carefully. She wasn't completely certain this visit had been a good idea. She read the headstones, which gleamed white and free of dirt. Someone, it seemed, tended the graves regularly. Lupin? McGonagall? All of the Order members, most likely.

Hermione saw something odd and stepped forward to look more closely at Lily's grave. She gasped suddenly as the medallion on her chest went hot. She walked slightly away from the others and yanked it out.

_Another attack. It's that odd Ravenclaw girl. The blonde. Better hurry._

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She spun back to the others.

"The Death Eaters are after Luna!" she cried. "We have to go now! Professor, do you know where she lives?"

"Yes, but—" McGonagall stared at her, but there was no time to explain how she knew.

"I'll take Ron through, then. You take Harry. Someone should alert Lupin!"

"I will," Hestia offered.

"I'll go to the office of the Quibbler to tell her father—he's likely at work by now. We'll meet you there," said Sturgis Podmore.

Without further conversation, they _Disapparated_.


	11. Chapter 11 Luna

Author's Note: I realize Luna is dreadfully out of character, but she was devilishly hard to write and besides, this was too much fun. One of my favorite chapters.

**Chapter Eleven – Luna**

Draco had been roused by Severus Snape, never a pleasant experience. Today Snape had simply removed the blankets from the bed instead of dousing him with cold water, as he'd done on a previous occasion.

"Bloody hell, what now?" Draco snapped. He was irritable due to Avery's damned snoring that had prevented him from getting a decent sleep. He climbed reluctantly to his feet and moved close to the fire, snatching up his dressing gown from the back of a chair.

"Get dressed. We have to go."

"Another house to burn down?" Draco asked in a bored tone.

"No. Another chance for you to become a true Death Eater."

Draco turned his cold gaze to Snape, who seemed strangely subdued. The former Potions Master looked ill at ease.

"I have something for you," Snape said and walked forward to hand Draco a small book bound in black leather. Draco took it and examined it curiously. "It is a listing of some of the spells I invented and how to use them. I'm not certain how much time we will have together, so I may not be able to teach you."

Draco was puzzled by the gift, as well as Snape's attitude. Draco had never felt particularly close to Snape, even though he had proclaimed loudly for years that Snape was his favorite teacher. He was still an authority figure and, as such, had never ranked particularly high in Draco's hierarchy.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"There is something else you should know," Snape said quietly. "Someone needs to be aware of it, in case something should happen to me. None of the other Death Eaters know, so _do not mention it_. If the Dark Lord evens suspects that you know, or that I know..." Snape moved closer to Draco and spoke near his ear so quietly that Draco could barely hear him. "The reason he is deathless is that he has split his soul into several objects called Horcruxes. If anything should happen to me, seek them out."

Snape moved away, leaving Draco more confused than ever. Horcruxes? He had never heard the term.

"Guard well this knowledge," Snape said in a low voice. "And do with it what you will. Keep in mind the lessons Bellatrix and I have taught you."

"Why tell me this?" Draco demanded. "Why me? Why not my fa—"

"I am sworn to protect you. When I am gone, this knowledge may guide you when I cannot."

"Are you going somewhere?"

"_We_ are going somewhere. As you know, all of our missions carry the strong possibility that we will not return. I am merely taking precautions. We will depart from the library. The others are gathering, so do hurry."

Draco did not have time to ponder Snape's words for long. He prepared himself for another potentially horrific mission. Draco was accompanied this time by Snape, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Mulciber. When they _Apparated_ into the deserted street, he was glad to see no sign of werewolves. They stood before a strange, small house festooned with whirligigs, yard ornaments, garland, and fluttering streamers in various colors and designs.

"What the hell is this place?" Draco asked in bewilderment.

"Lovegood residence," Bellatrix said with a short laugh, muffled by the mask she wore. "The freaks are about to meet something a lot scarier than anything in that stupid rag of theirs."

Draco's hand clenched around the coin in his pocket. He vaguely remembered the strange blond girl that flitted around Harry Potter and the other Gryffindors. What was her name?

He sent a quick message across the coin. He wasn't sure what Granger could do about it, or if she even received the message, but at least he had warned her. She couldn't accuse Devlin Whitehorn of shirking his duty.

They fanned out quickly. Snape and Draco approached the front door while Bellatrix and her husband went around to forestall escape from the back. Mulciber hung back, watching the windows and staring around intently for any threats.

Snape blasted the door in without ceremony and surprised the Lovegood girl—Luna, Draco suddenly remembered—who was seated in a chair with a magazine and a quill in her hand. Snape aimed a curse in her direction, but the girl was not surprised for long. She flipped her chair over backward and Snape's curse rebounded off the underside. Luna got to her feet and bolted for the stairs.

Draco watched, wand in hand, as Snape sent hex after hex after the girl, causing damage to the walls of the room, but missing her completely.

"You really need to work on your aim," Draco said dryly.

"Shut up and go after her!"

Draco loped for the stairs, wondering where the stupid girl thought she was going. No one with a brain went _upwards_ to escape. He poked his head carefully over the landing, expecting her to try and zap him with a hex, or at least throw something heavy at him. She was nowhere in sight. He heard a muffled thump from a nearby room and sidled toward the door. He peeked in just in time to see Luna's head disappearing down a shaft in the wall. Laundry chute. Well, at least she was going _down_ this time.

Draco turned and thundered back down the stairs, nearly mowing down Snape.

"Basement!" Draco called in a singsong voice. He passed Snape and crossed the room, looking for a door to the basement. There were suddenly several cracks announcing _Apparition_ and Draco ran for the kitchen. There he saw Bellatrix and Rodolphus entering through the back door.

"I think the enemy just got here," he mentioned and tore open the basement door. "I'm going after the girl."

As he lit his wand and headed down the narrow wooden stairs, Draco heard Hermione shout. She had made quick work of getting here. And Potter, too? Well, well, well, that was a surprise. He'd expected Potter to be hiding out for the summer, as usual. The Dark Lord would likely be pleased to hear that bit of news.

He stepped carefully into the basement, wand high and a counter-curse ready on his lips. Where had the girl gone? And why wasn't she hexing him? Surely she wasn't stupid enough to have forgotten her wand?

"Look, I know you're down here. I'm not going to hurt you, so why don't you just come out?"

Draco heard a noise and spun, only to find his Aunt Bellatrix rushing down the stairs after him.

"Where is she? We have to kill her and go! The damned Order of the Phoenix is here!"

"I thought I mentioned that."

A green light suddenly struck Bella in the back and she fairly flew down the remainder of the stairs to land in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Draco stared in astonishment. He caught a glimpse of robes at the top of the steps and craned his neck for a better look, certain they were Death Eater black.

Something flashed in Draco's peripheral vision and he turned, wand ready, to see Luna Lovegood leaping straight at him. They both went down in a tangle and Draco nearly dropped his wand. The light flickered, but steadied as Draco tightened his grip. Luna scrambled up and ran for a strange object that looked like a rusty doorknob. Draco threw himself at her and managed to grab her ankle just in time to feel himself being whisked away.

Bloody hell. A _Portkey_.

"I think you can let go of me, now," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Are you a Death Eater? I thought so at first, but you don't have a mask. In fact, I know you! You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?"

Draco sat up and looked around. They were in what appeared to be an underground cave. Luna's wand was in her hand and its tip provided enough light to see by. Barely. He shot to his feet.

"Where the hell are we?"

"I have no idea. Father set up several _Portkeys_ around the house for protection. I only remembered this one when I saw it."

"What do you mean you have no idea? How do we get out of here?"

Luna shrugged.

"I suppose we use the _Portkey_ to get back to the basement. I'd rather not do that until the others leave, though. Are you one of them? What do you want?"

She seemed pretty calm and unperturbed, for someone that had nearly been killed in a Death Eater attack.

"I'm not really one of them, although if they find that out they'll likely melt me into a flesh pudding," Draco admitted, not wanting to provoke her into hexing him. "Why didn't you use your wand back there to defend yourself?"

"I'm underage, of course. Do you think I want to be expelled before school even starts?"

"I think they make exceptions for near-fatal attacks."

"Not necessarily. Harry was nearly expelled when the dementors attacked him two summers ago. The Ministry is completely corrupt, you know. Rufus Scrimgeour is nearly as bad as Cornelius Fudge, although I don't think he's murdered any goblins."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Harry Potter says you're responsible for Dumbledore's death."

"Harry Potter says a lot of things," Draco muttered, watching her carefully.

Luna suddenly sat down cross-legged on the cold dirt floor. Draco looked away from her long enough to scan for a way out. He saw no doors, crevasses, or holes by which to escape. What kind of imbecile would set up a portal into an escape-proof hole? He supposed he could _Apparate_ out, but it was risky without knowing where he started from. What if they were miles below ground?

"I'm willing to hear your side," Luna said. "It's always possible you were possessed by an Algamothra. Have you been to Sardinia lately?"

Draco stared at her, but it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere without her. The rusty doorknob sat two inches from her left shoe and she had placed a large rock on top of it. If necessary, he could probably _Accio_ it, but it would be better to persuade her to take them both out of here. He looked around nervously. He wasn't terribly fond of enclosed spaces.

He sighed and turned his attention back to Lovegood. She wore a strange gypsy-like skirt in lurid colors and a teal jumper partially buttoned from the top down. Her socks looked mismatched and they bunched around her ankles. He expelled a breath and sat down opposite her. Her earrings dangled strangely and he leaned forward to look at them.

"Are those radishes?"

"Of course."

He nodded, thoroughly confused. "How long do you plan to keep us down here?"

"Long enough for you to tell me why I shouldn't hex you into a puddle and leave you here for the Mondrovian Cave Beetles."

"I see. Since you mentioned it, I suppose I was responsible for Dumbledore's death." Might as well get that out of the way right off the bat. At least she hadn't taken his wand. If necessary, they could have a wizard duel. Down here. In the dirty, creepy darkness.

"But?" she prodded.

"But what?"

"You said it as if you had more to say."

"_But_, I didn't kill him. I was supposed to, but I couldn't. He was an unarmed old man! I was supposed to face the greatest wizard of all time in a duel that would most likely end in my death. Not murder a weak old man in cold blood."

"Dumbledore was not weak," Luna said adamantly.

"He was that day. He could barely stand. Something happened to him."

Luna muttered something under her breath and Draco suspected she was blaming some sort of imaginary creature for Dumbledore's condition. For a Ravenclaw, she was rather pathetic. He almost mentioned it, until he remembered that he didn't have Crabbe and Goyle standing by to back up his sarcastic commentary. He clamped his jaw shut.

Draco's coin suddenly warmed his pocket. He twisted until he could reach it and lit his wand to read it.

"Is that a Dumbledore's Army coin?" Luna asked. "Where did you get it?"

Draco ignored her while he read the words.

_Devlin? Where are you?_

_What happened to the password? Zonko's and all that?_

_This is no time to be snarky! Did the Death Eaters capture Luna?_

_No, she's here with me. Wherever here is._

_What are you talking about?_

_Portkey. Cave. Long story. Is it safe to return?_

Not that he really wanted to return and face Granger. She still had no idea who he was. The minute she and Potter caught sight of him, it would be _Sectumsempra_ revisited.

_Almost. We're searching the house. I think they've fled._

Luna was watching him with her strange, luminous eyes.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Hermione Granger," he admitted, although saying the words aloud made them sound completely untrue. Luna must have agreed.

"I don't believe you."

"Neither would she."

Her oversized eyes grew even larger.

"She doesn't know it's you!"

Draco reevaluated her. Maybe she did deserve to be in Ravenclaw.

"Of course not. I don't even know why I'm helping her. I'm supposed to kill you and become an obedient little Death Eater."

"You said it yourself. You couldn't kill an unarmed old man, so you certainly can't kill a pathetic, underage girl. You're no killer."

Draco glared at her.

"I've been hearing that far too frequently."

"Then it must be true. Things that are difficult to hear often need repeating."

_They've gone_, the coin revealed in a rush of warmth.

Draco groaned, suddenly realizing the gravity of his situation. On the one hand, he was glad to be able to leave the cave. On the other hand, Snape and the others would not be happy about losing him. Most of them would suspect him of fleeing. He didn't want to think about what Voldemort might do.

"She says it's safe to go back. Look, if Potter and the others spot me, they'll hex first and ask questions, later."

"Let me go and explain it to them," Luna offered. She reached for the _Portkey_.

"Wait!" Draco yelled just as her hand touched the metal doorknob.

Nothing happened. She picked up the useless orb and blinked at him with her gaze of permanent surprise.

"Hmmm. One-way _Portkey_, apparently."

Draco thought he might kill her, after all.


	12. Chapter 12 Portkeys

**Chapter Twelve - Portkeys**

Hermione appeared in the Lovegood parlour and stared into a Death Eater mask for a shocked moment. The Death Eater bolted for the kitchen and nearly collided with two others rushing into the room. Hermione aimed a curse at the lot of them, but they all disappeared at once.

A jet of light shot past her and she turned to see another black-robed figure in the doorway, with a wand pointed directly at Harry.

"Look out!" she yelled and sent a hex at the figure. The Death Eater ducked out of sight and her spell sent splinters flying from the door frame.

"Watch it!" Harry cried at her and sent a bolt over her shoulder while yelling, "_Protego_!"

Whatever the spell had been, it rebounded, but the Death Eater in the kitchen did not pause.

"_Stupefy_!" Ron yelled as a jet of green clipped his hair. Ron's spell hit the Death Eater at the same instant as McGonagall's. The Death Eater screamed and fell back into the kitchen.

The one outside peered around the corner again and Hermione leveled _Expelliarmus_ at him. His wand spun off and she heard an angry yell. They heard an odd thumping sound from the direction of the kitchen and then an ominous silence. Harry approached the kitchen archway cautiously and poked his head around the corner.

"They're gone!" he shouted and took off. Hermione growled and raced after him, in time to see him leap out of the back door. When would he learn not to be so bloody reckless?

She stopped on the back stoop after nearly running Harry down.

"Where did they go?" he asked.

"The basement!" she cried. They hurried back to the kitchen and yanked open the door to the cellar in time to hear the muffled cracks of _Disapparition_. Harry bolted down the stairs, but Hermione stayed, sensing it was too late. Harry's voice confirmed it.

"Empty. Bloody cowards! They never stay and fight unless it's six to one odds!"

McGonagall and Ron entered the kitchen just as Harry returned to the top of the steps.

"The one outside fled," McGonagall said.

"But, where's Luna?" Ron asked.

Hermione pulled out her Galleon. The time for secrecy was obviously past.

_Devlin? Where are you?_

She was relieved to find both Luna and Devlin safe.

"Luna is with Devlin," she said to the others after a brief conversation by coin. "Apparently, there was a _Portkey_ and they are in a cave somewhere."

"Who the hell is Devlin?" Ron demanded.

"Devlin Whitehorn. He's the one that warned me about the attack on my parents. And now Luna."

"Devlin _Whitehorn_?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes. Why?"

"Devlin Whitehorn is the founder of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company," Harry explained. "Didn't you _read_ any of those Quidditch books you bought us?"

Hermione flushed. "Well, no. You know I think Quidditch is boring. That's beside the point. He can't be the _real_ Devlin Whitehorn, can he?"

"I doubt it," Ron said and shrugged. "But, there's no telling who wants to join up with the Death Eaters, is there? Maybe he's into the whole pureblood thing. Or was, if he's turned. How long have you been in contact with him, anyway?"

Hermione concentrated for a moment. "Well, we'll find out who he really is soon enough. I told him it's safe to come back."

She sighed, rather disappointed to discover Devlin could be a middle-aged businessman. She had been picturing a young, witty, somewhat tortured man struggling to escape the bonds of evil that surrounded him. She scowled and shook off her foolish fancy. He probably did have a face like a goblin.

The coin warmed in her hand and she looked at it.

_Slight problem. Miss Sorted-into-Ravenclaw-by-Mistake tells me it's a one-way _Portkey_. We seem to be stuck in a hole until rescued._

There was a commotion in the next room and they all hurried back to see Sturgis Podmore and Luna's father appear in the Lovegood fireplace.

"Where is my daughter?" Mr. Lovegood demanded.

"She's safe, but she's in a cave. Apparently, she used a _Portkey_. Hopefully, you can tell us where they ended up."

"They?"

"She's with… a friend."

Mr. Lovegood's brow drew down in consternation.

"Well, it depends on which _Portkey_ she used, of course. Many of them lead to caves. Hopefully she didn't use the one that goes to Nepal… on my last visit a group of trolls had moved in…" He scratched his head. "Well, let me check around. I'll figure out which one she used." He headed upstairs. Hermione looked at the others helplessly.

McGonagall went outside for a moment and then returned.

"I sent a message to Lupin. I told him the danger has been averted. Now, I really must get to Hogwarts. These side trips have put me seriously behind schedule."

"I don't want to leave until I know Luna is safe," Hermione said. And Devlin, she added to herself. She had no intention of leaving him to be discovered and mistaken for a Death Eater, even if he was middle-aged and looked like a goblin. Harry gave her a quizzical look, knowing Luna wasn't her favorite person to spend time with. "Harry, you and Ron go with Professor McGonagall. I'll catch up. It shouldn't take long, now that Mr. Lovegood is here."

Harry was about to protest when Sturgis Podmore spoke up. "I'll stay with Hermione."

After a bit more arguing, McGonagall, Harry, and Ron _Disapparated_, bound for Hogsmeade.

Mr. Lovegood returned from upstairs, carrying a purple goblet with gold lettering on the side.

"I've been looking everywhere for this!" he exclaimed. "This is my souvenir from—"

"Mr. Lovegood, can we focus on finding Luna, please? Perhaps, if we _Apparate_ to all the caves you can think of—"

Mr. Lovegood shook his head violently.

"Oh no. We never _Apparate_. Terribly risky way to travel. Luna and I only travel by _Portkey_ or the Floo Network."

Hermione nearly pulled a page from Harry's book and yanked her hair in frustration.

"Then, can you possibly remember to which cave Luna might have _Portkeyed_? One with no exit, perhaps?"

Mr. Lovegood's made a humming noise and shook his head.

"No exit? That would be extraordinarily foolish. They all have exits. Take this one, for example—" He stepped forward and picked up what looked like a stuffed quail—and disappeared. Hermione stared at the empty spot for a moment, and then she did yank her hair, hard.

"If that was another of his one-way _Portkeys_, I think I will scream!"

"We'd better hope it was," Sturgis commented from the post he'd taken up by the window. "The Death Eaters are back."

She ran to join him, in time to see at least six masked Death Eaters materialize in the yard. One of them raised a wand toward the house. Hermione grabbed Sturgis and _Disapparated_.

She fell to her knees when they reached their destination. Side-Along Apparition was difficult and she'd done it twice in one morning. Sturgis helped her to her feet, but said nothing. His gaze was fixed on a point over her shoulder and his expression was grim. She turned around reluctantly, but no Death Eaters met her gaze. Instead, she saw a lazy spiral of smoke curl from a jumble of blackened timbers.

"Why did you bring us here?" Sturgis asked hoarsely.

"It's close to the Lovegoods. I didn't think beyond escape," she whispered. She felt physically ill when she saw what had been done to The Burrow, the scene of so many pleasant memories. "Oh God, I can't believe they did this. To what purpose?"

Sturgis said nothing and Hermione already knew the answer. She turned away before the tears could start and held onto her growing anger.

"Come on," she said brusquely. "We need to make certain Mr. Lovegood didn't return. It's not far to walk."

She started off. The clouds were beginning to break up and the temperature was mild. It was shaping up into a beautiful summer day. Hermione was in no mood to enjoy it. She wanted to go back to the Lovegoods' and take on all of the Death Eaters herself. It was barely fifteen minutes to the Luna's house on foot, which was why Hermione had chosen it. She had been afraid the Death Eaters would cast an Anti-Apparition jinx on the house. She and Sturgis would have been trapped—but for an assortment of _Portkeys_, one of which led to a den of cave trolls.

Partway back, she felt the coin heat on her chest.

_You are planning to find us, correct?_ Devlin asked.

_Yes, but there are complications. The Death Eaters returned._

_Looking for me? How touching._

_Actually, I think they were hoping to catch Harry Potter._

_I know, I was joking. If I caught fire, some of them would throw kindling._

_I'll come as soon as I can,_ she promised.

As they approached the Lovegood house, they circled around to get a view of the front. Luckily, there was a large amount of undergrowth to hide them. The Death Eaters were milling in the front yard. There was no sign of Mr. Lovegood. Hopefully, he wasn't lying dead in the house… As they watched, several of them set fire to Luna's house, as they had done The Burrow. Sturgis nearly burst from concealment in rage, but Hermione held him back with a hiss.

"There are too many!"

The Death Eaters suddenly vanished. They waited for a few minutes to be certain none remained, and then they raced for the house. Working quickly, they rained fountains of water from their wands and managed to halt the flames before too much damage was done. Hermione stood guard while Sturgis entered the house.

"No sign of him. He must not have returned, or we would have seen him."

"That's a relief, but how are we going to find Luna?"


	13. Chapter 13 Dover

**Chapter Thirteen - Dover**

Draco had overcome some of his aversion to dirt. He lay stretched out on the floor with his head resting on his rolled-up Death Eater robes. He amused himself by expelling various notions from the end of his wand: fireflies; iridescent bubbles, tiny multicolored sparks that spiraled crazily around the cave before exploding in a mini-fireworks display; a hoard of sparkling blue butterflies that melted into vapor; and a shower of sweet-scented red rose petals that now lay forgotten on the cave floor.

"I've been thinking," Luna announced suddenly, after a miraculous two minutes of silence.

"Not about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I hope, because I've heard enough about those to last several lifetimes."

"No, I've been thinking that my father would never have set up a one-way _Portkey_ to a place with no exit. That would be idiotic."

"Of course. No one in your family would ever be idiotic."

She either ignored, or didn't catch, the sarcasm as she got to her feet.

"Exactly. So there must be an exit. We only need to find it."

Draco rolled over onto his stomach to watch her as she plucked her wand from the center of the floor. She had lit it, candle-like, and braced it with rocks while they waited. She marched to a wall and examined it closely while running a hand over the surface.

"You might have thought of this an hour ago."

"Actually, I did, but you seemed interested in the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, plus I really enjoyed watching you conjure—who would have guessed someone so nasty could make such pretty butterflies?"

For a moment, Draco considered conjuring a nest of venomous snakes, but he clamped down sharply on the urge by taking several calming breaths. He congratulated himself on his patience when she said, "Aha! Here it is."

A large section of the cave wall suddenly opened up and emitted a welcome draft of sea-laden air and bright sunlight. Draco scrambled to his feet. He joined Luna on a ledge overlooking a vast expanse of ocean. Far below, a wave crashed upon jagged rocks and sent up white spray. To the right, the cliffs curved away out of sight. To the left, nothing was visible but the rock wall and a few Muggle ships far out on the water. Draco stood at the edge of the ledge and looked up, hoping by some miracle to spot a path or ladder or even a weathered rope. As expected, there was nothing but fifty feet of unscalable rock. Draco sighed and lifted his coin.

_Granger, I know where we are._

_That's fabulous!_

_Well, not really. We're on the White Cliffs of Dover. And when I saw 'on' I mean literally. Miss Snorkack found a door, so at least we're outside. I'm going to take us to the top and try to get our bearings._

_Be careful._

Draco knew she meant _be invisible_. Couldn't have any bloody Muggles spotting us now, could we? He _Accioed_ his Death Eater robes and shrugged them on. He looked at Luna, who was peering at the waves below as if transfixed.

"I think I see a Merclops," she said. Draco didn't dare ask.

"Come here. I need to _Apparate_ us to the top."

She stared at him in horror. "Heavens no! Are you trying to kill us? _Apparition_, honestly."

Draco clenched his jaw so hard he felt his teeth might crack.

"Then, how do you propose we get up there?" he asked through his teeth. "I don't happen to have a broom with me."

"Can't you cast a flying spell? Even I can do that one. Except I can't right now. Underage magic, you know."

Draco rubbed a hand through his hair and began to realize why Potter's was constantly in disarray. How could he be around these people on a daily basis without turning them into something horrific?

He cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on the girl and then caught her sleeve as she began to drift seaward. He cast one on himself and then spent the next ten minutes trying to keep them headed in the right direction, instead of floating about with every breeze. He was dripping with sweat by the time they floated over the green grass and he terminated the spell. He looked around through tired eyes.

"Any idea where we are?" he asked.

"Britain?" she suggested.

"Remind me why I shouldn't kill you."

If she reminded him, he didn't hear it, as he was holding the Galleon once more.

_I'm seeing a lot of green. Hang on, we're in a depression. Let me get to the top._

He walked until he stood atop the rise and looked around. Aside from limitless green, he spotted what looked to be a pier jutting out into the water.

He described his surroundings in detail.

_All right, you're close to Dover to walk, if necessary. I'll meet you in front of Dover Castle, under the arch. Let me know when you get there. I'll Apparate straight to you as soon as you judge it safe._

_Fine_, Draco replied, although the thought of walking was nearly as unpleasant as the thought of finally revealing himself to Hermione Granger.

They made it to Dover Castle without Draco pushing Luna into the Atlantic, which he saw as a testament to sheer willpower.

"Prepare yourself," he said as they reached what he assumed was the correct spot, "She will likely go completely mental." He gazed about, but tourist activity seemed to be minimal.

_We're here_, he sent.

Hermione _Apparated_ after a quick apology to Sturgis, whom she had left to wait for Mr. Lovegood, against his wishes. It took her an instant to get her bearings and she gasped in disbelief when she heard a shouted _Expelliarmus!_ Her wand flew out of her hand. She stared at Draco Malfoy in mounting horror.

"You! What are _you_--?" She halted at the sight of Luna, whose right hand was wrapped around Malfoy's arm. Luna's wand was held loosely in her left hand and she smiled dreamily. It was not the sight of Luna clinging to Malfoy, but the fact that he was not shaking her off in utter distaste that finally penetrated Hermione's shocked mind. She doubted her jaw could open any wider and she simply could not find words for a moment.

Malfoy bowed sardonically and managed to make it look insulting.

"Devlin Whitehorn, at your service," he said and followed it up with his patented hateful smirk.

"You can't be. You simply can't be…" she choked finally.

"She's a bit slow today," Draco said to Luna, who sighed and released his arm after giving it a nice pat.

"I'll get her wand," she said. "You can explain it to her."

She wandered off across the greensward, humming. Hermione did not take her eyes from Malfoy.

"All right, Granger, I know what you're thinking, since you're terribly suspicious and mistrusting. Ask me something only your Devlin Whitehorn would know," he suggested.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Last night… I ask you some questions."

"Quite a lot of them, actually, and some were rather personal questions to be asking a stranger, I'll have you know. Never would have guessed _you_ to be so forward, but I suppose it's true what they say about the bookish ones—"

"The questions!" she snapped.

Draco grinned wickedly and his eyes seemed to gleam like polished silver. "You asked if I had any scars and I told you I had one on—"

"Stop, stop, stop! Oh God." Hermione could not have blushed any darker. She was completely mortified. "I can't believe this. I simply can't believe it." She had been teasing—and bloody _fantasizing_!—about Draco Malfoy! "You… _you_ are responsible for Dumbledore's… Why did you tell me about my parents?" She felt her voice beginning to rise. "What possible self-serving reason could you have to warn me? And to save Luna? What kind of horrible trick are you playing?"

Draco sighed and actually wore an expression she'd never seen on him before. She couldn't quite place it before it was gone. "I knew this would be difficult for you, but I didn't realize it would be impossible. Look, would it help if I gave you my wand?"

He stepped forward and held it out to her, grip first. She eyed him suspiciously, wondering what wicked game he was playing. She nearly snatched his wand, but then she noticed the tension in his jaw. His fingers tightened slightly when she reached for it and she realized it was no trick—he really was giving up his wand to her. She drew in a surprised breath and grasped the dark wood gently. He released it and stepped back, grey eyes narrowed.

"Well, you have me at your mercy," he said. "What do you plan to do now?"

Hermione didn't answer. Her mind was spinning. She replayed every conversation she'd had with Devlin—_Draco!_—over the past two days. He'd been with Luna long enough to have disposed of her several times over. Or taken her to Death Eater Headquarters. Hell, she'd been holding his arm like they were the best of friends! She turned and stared at Luna, who had retrieved Hermione's wand and was spinning in the grass with both arms spread wide. Her blond hair flew out in a tumbled curtain. She staggered dizzily and fell down. Hermione sighed.

"I'd suggest you _Confunded_ her, except that's pretty normal behavior for Luna," Hermione said.

"Want to hear about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" Draco countered dryly. "I know all about them, now."

Hermione shuddered.

"No. We'd better get back. I haven't a clue what to do with you. I can't take you to the Order. Even if I wanted to. Which I don't. I suppose it would be a bad idea for you to return to—wherever you were?"

"And try to explain where I've been for the past two hours? To the Dark Lord? How about if you _Polyjuice_ into me and go in my place?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment.

"Do you think that would work?" she asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're not seriously considering it?"

She wasn't, but it suddenly worried her that someone could take on the shape of an Order member and walk straight into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. She set the idea aside for later study.

"Let's take Luna home. Hopefully, her father's returned from wherever he disappeared to."

"She won't _Apparate_. Or use magic. Or a list of dozens of other things."

"I know. We'll have to take a Muggle cab."

Draco looked so horrified she actually laughed aloud.

"Contrary to what you may think, Muggle residue will not rub off and harm you."

"Says you."

She looked at him critically. "However, you simply can't march around in Death Eater robes. What do you have on under those?"

"Trying to undress me already, Granger? I've only just switched sides."

She tried hard not to flush and thought she managed it. "Spare me the cheek and let me see."

He shrugged out of the robes, to expose form-fitting black trousers and a blousy black silk shirt. With his silver-blonde hair and pale skin, he looked like every girls' vampire dream. That would never do. He'd have Gothic-punk chicks falling at his feet and trailing him around town.

Luna was sitting up, watching them. Hermione _Accioed_ her own wand without comment. She pointed it at Malfoy and transfigured his trousers into jeans and his shirt into a white T-shirt. Draco jumped back.

"Blast it! Warn a person before you go rearranging their clothing, won't you? What the hell is this?"

Hermione's teeth worried her lower lip. In Muggle clothing, he was even more striking than in archaic wizard-wear. Jeans fit him perfectly and the T-shirt made him look like he belonged on a street corner with a fag dangling from his lips while he catcalled at girls and planned his next caper. Luna returned and watched curiously as Hermione tried again.

"What _are_ you doing?" he demanded and actually gasped at the outfit she'd put him in. "Bloody hell! No! Draco Malfoy does _not wear orange!_ Ever. And what kind of fabric is this? Did you yank it straight off the goat?"  
She'd put him in the most loathsome creation she could think of—an orange and brown patterned jumper and khaki slacks. The problem was he didn't look loathsome at all. He looked like a carefree student recently escaped from prep school. The type that would invite you to his flat to "study" and have you sitting on his lap in five seconds or less. A preppy angel.

"Damn you," she growled, realizing for the first time just how handsome Malfoy really was. He'd always been good looking, but his pure malice had completely blinded her to it. Now, he looked like a damned Adonis. An irritated, scowling Adonis. Even his damned scowl was beautiful. She put him in torn black jeans and a red shirt that looked as if it had been slashed by werewolves. A chain belt dangled from his lean hips. She realized her mistake as even Luna stared at him with her jaw unhinged. He looked like a sexy rock star. When the hell had he grown _muscles_? He was supposed to be thin and weedy!

"What exactly are you trying to do?" Draco asked in a glacial tone.

"I'm trying to make you inconspicuous. To blend in with the Muggles."

"I don't think that's going to be possible," said Luna in a dazed voice.

"Fine." She restored his clothing to the original vampire-chic. "Put your robes back on, then."

He obediently replaced his robe, and she transfigured it into a fashionable taupe trench coat, breathing a sigh of relief when he was mostly covered in fabric. He examined his outfit by shifting from side to side.

"Not bad, actually."

"Yes, well, you look like an international spy, but at least we shouldn't have girls chasing you down the street throwing phone numbers at you. Come along."

She turned on a heel and headed for downtown Dover.

"What's a phone number?" Luna asked Malfoy. "I'll throw mine at you, if I have one."

Hermione prayed for patience. She knew she was going to need it.


	14. Chapter 14 Creeping Parcleps

**Chapter Fourteen – Creeping Parcleps**

On the way into town, Hermione decided she should send a message to Sturgis Podmore, but realized it was a bit risky to do it in the usual way. In fact, it was impossible. She would just have to wait until they returned. She shot a sideways look at her new charges.

"You know, Luna dear," she said sweetly, "It would be really nice if we could just _Apparate_ back to your house. Just this once. It's really quite safe. I've already _Apparated_ several times today—twice with passengers. And look, I'm fine."

Luna gave her a measuring look through her oversized eyes.

"My father would be furious. Especially if I ended up splinched into a tree or something."

"You will not be splinched into a tree. I know what I'm doing."

"You may risk yourself all you like. Can't we just find a fireplace and Floo back home?"

"How many wizarding families do you know in Dover?" Hermione asked in a voice that bordered on shouting. "Shall we just randomly knock on doors and ask if they are hooked up to the Floo Network?"

Luna pondered the question as though Hermione were serious.

"That would probably take a long time, but eventually it would work."

Malfoy coughed behind Hermione, but it sounded suspiciously like a disguised laugh. She shot a glare over her shoulder.

"We could probably fetch some brooms with a simple _Accio_," he suggested. She suppressed a shudder.

"No, thank you." She'd rather _walk_ back to Ottery St. Catchpole than take a broom. She threw her hands up.

"Fine. Muggle cab it is."

They walked down Castle Hill Road and Hermione scouted for a phone booth. She located one near The White Horse pub and stepped inside to dial for a local cab. Malfoy was hovering on the sidewalk, avoiding all pedestrians and looking like he would leap out into the street rather than allow one to touch him.

"Will you stop it?" she hissed upon leaving the phone booth. Malfoy's eyes flashed.

"No, I will not."

"How many times have you been to a Muggle city? If you've managed to avoid actual human contact, it cannot have been that many."

Malfoy replied, "Besides London? No, not many. And never like this." He moved quickly aside to avoid a brush with a rushing delivery boy. "Malfoys never mingle with Mud—Muggles."

"No wonder you're so insufferably bigoted, then," she snapped. "Perhaps if you 'mingled' once in awhile, you would discover they are actual people and not garbage in human skin."

He raised a brow at her choice of words and chuckled.

"Garbage in human skin. I rather like that. I'll have to remember to use it on Potter next time I—" He trailed off when she gasped.

"Oh my God, Harry," she breathed. "He's going to—"

The cab pulled up at that moment, sparing Hermione the rest of that thought. She put Draco and Luna in the back and took the passenger seat to direct the driver. And to avoid all contact with Malfoy, she admitted to herself.

They were largely silent on the fifty mile drive, except for Luna, who had decided to tell her captive audience all about Creeping Parcleps, tiny creatures that crept into your dreams at night and implanted suggestions, usually mischievous, but sometimes pure evil, which caused people to do things they normally wouldn't. She strongly hinted that Draco was under the influence of Creeping Parcleps when he had tried to kill Dumbledore earlier that year.

Unfortunately, the only one giving any credence to Luna's conversation was the Muggle driver, whose eyes grew wider and wider as he drove until Hermione managed to catch his eye. She waggled a finger next to her ear and jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate that Luna was a few tokens short of a board game. The driver looked relieved and thereafter just smiled indulgently at Luna in the rear-view.

While the countryside sped by, Hermione wondered what she was going to do with Malfoy. She couldn't take him to the Order. She didn't dare take him to Hogwarts. Harry would rip him limb from limb. So would the other teachers, most likely. She could turn him over to the Ministry, but they would just lock him up in the basement that currently served as the new wizard prison. There was only one place she could think of, though it had already been proven unsafe.

They made it to Ottery St. Catchpole without incident and exited the cab in front of Luna's partially burned house.

Sturgis and Mr. Lovegood rushed out to greet them. Hermione was relieved to see Mr. Lovegood alive and well. Draco loitered by the cab; luckily, because Sturgis raised his wand with a shout the instant he caught sight of him.

"Sturgis, no!" Hermione yelled. "I'll explain in a minute!"

The Muggle driver was still in the car and Hermione leaned in to pay him with a handful of Muggle bills she had conjured in Dover.

"You are in'erestin' people," he commented.

"You have no idea," Hermione muttered.

"I 'ope the barmy girl'll be all right."

"We'll take care of her." She gave him a substantial tip and sent him on his way. As soon as the cab disappeared over the rise, she turned to find Malfoy and Sturgis Podmore watching each other like two rival wolves about to tear each others' throats out.

"Might I have my wand back?" Draco asked.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," she said. She did pull the wands out of her shirt, where she had put them for safekeeping. Muggle clothing did not offer many options for wand storage.

"What's he doing here?" Sturgis burst out. "Did you capture him?"

"No. He's helping us."

"Helping us what? Get more of our members killed? He's the bloody reason—!"

"I know!" She put up a hand to stop him. "Let's go inside and I'll explain."

She sent off a quick _Patronus_ message to Harry explaining that something had come up and she would join them when she could. She neglected to explain the "something" was Draco Malfoy. She planned to put that conversation off as long as possible.

Inside, it was decided that Luna and her father would stay at the office of The Quibbler for awhile. It was unlikely the Death Eaters would strike there and the staff would allow some protection, should the need arise. Mr. Lovegood gathered a number of _Portkeys_ into a basket to take along. He and Luna bid them good day, stepped into the fire, and disappeared in a red whirlwind.

Hermione had a quiet, furious argument with Sturgis that involved a lot of dark looks shot in Malfoy's direction and several angry hand gestures. At the end of it, Sturgis had been unable to sway her, mainly due to lack of alternative suggestions.

"It's decided. I'm taking him with me until we can figure out what to do with him. You can explain it to Lupin. Perhaps he'll have a better idea."

Sturgis, muttering angrily, _Disapparated_ with one final glare at Malfoy. Hermione sighed and joined Draco at the window, where he'd been standing while pretending to ignore their conversation. She felt somewhat apprehensive, now that she was completely alone with him.

"Will you come with me?" she asked politely, realizing that no one had bothered to ask his opinion.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You could go back to your Death Eater friends."

His grey eyes flashed.

"There are other places I could go."

She nodded, wondering where he could go that was safe. Running like Karkaroff, but they'd found him, hadn't they? For a moment, she considered letting him go, and wondered how long it would take them to hunt him down. He'd be on the run from both sides. She smiled ruefully. Surprisingly, she didn't want him to die. He had saved her parents. He had brought Luna back. And he hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore. And as Devlin Whitehorn, he'd talked to her like a real person.

"I'd like you to come with me," she requested. He raised a pale brow at her and she gritted, "Please."

"Ouch. I'll bet that was physically painful," he said and grinned. "I'll come with you, since you begged so nicely."

She resisted the urge to punch him. Instead, she smiled wickedly and stepped closer to him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to suffer the horrifying touch of a Mudblood. I'll try not to hurt you."

She reached up and pressed her hand against the curve of his jaw. Her thumb rested on his cheek and the tips of her fingers touched his silken blonde hair. She felt his pulse beneath her palm for a moment and watched him carefully, daring him to flinch. His silver eyes bored into hers, but he didn't move.

She triggered the spell and they _Disapparated_.


	15. Chapter 15 Manors and Memories

**Chapter Fifteen – Manors and Memories**

Tonks muttered under her breath to annoy Moody. He kept motioning to her to be completely silent, but after crawling across meters and meters of mud, brambles, and countless slimy creatures, she needed to let off some steam.

"Couldn't we have walked the last half-mile?" she hissed.

Moody swiveled his eye to stare at her angrily. Surprisingly, he broke silence long enough to snap, "Why don't we just march straight up there and knock on the door?"

"Straight up where?" she asked.

Moody pointed. "There. Malfoy Manor. Can't you see it?"

"I don't see anything."

Moody nodded. "That figures. They hid it. Didn't do a very good job, if I can still see it. It's blurred, but it's there."

"They hid it? You mean, like our Headquarters?"

"Yeh. Makes ya wonder exactly what they have to hide, eh?"

Moody hissed as she was about to reply. "Hssst! Someone coming!" He pulled up the hood of his cloak.

A stumpy minion in black robes wandered past their line of vision, but Moody wore his Invisibility Cloak and Tonks had patterned both hair and skin to blend in with her surroundings. The minion looked more bored than watchful, anyway.

"I don't think they pay their help very well," she commented.

"Lucky for us. Let's get closer. Maybe I can see inside."

Tonks sighed and followed as they crept through more mud.

They watched for a long time, but Moody finally sighed. He spoke so quietly she could barely hear him.

"Nothin'. I know they're in there, but the spell keeps blurrin' things. Unless a Death Eater walks out the front door, we won't be seein' 'em. Let's get back."

They froze when a sudden rush of movement caught their attention. Several minions were rushing about. When they reached a central point, they vanished from Tonks's vision. She assumed it was the front door to Malfoy Manor.

"Something's up. Think they have an _Anti-Apparition_ jinx on the place?"

"Why? Plan to pop in there and ask what's goin' on?"

Tonks scowled and considered bashing Moody over the head with a nearby mud-encrusted rock.

"I'm just asking."

Moody grunted. "Prob'ly not. They wouldn't want to be seen poppin' in and out around the grounds. Better to _Apparate_ inside. Don't do us any good."

Tonks was quiet.

"Don't even think it. I let you go in there, Lupin'll have my good eye on a plate. 'Sides, you could pop in face to face with whoever you're impersonatin'. And you never been there before, so you'd have to go in blind."

Tonks sighed, knowing he was right. It was just hard, knowing they were so close to something that could help them all. What if You-Know-Who was in there? What good was being a Metamorphmagis if she couldn't use her abilities?

"We'll just have to assume they're there. Bide our time," Moody whispered.

They waited awhile longer, but the minions did not return. Tonks was tired of biding her time. She wanted to crack some Death Eater skulls.

"We need to have a talk with Fred and George. Someone needs to invent wizard surveillance cameras."

It would be a lot nicer than crawling through the mud to watch an invisible house.

Harry, Ron, and McGonagall stopped in at the Hog's Head for a butterbeer, as McGonagall said she had a message for the barkeep. Harry and Ron dropped into a chair while McGonagall talked quietly to the bearded barkeep, who kept shooting odd looks at them under beetled brows. John Williamson, an Auror that had recently joined the Order, was drinking in a corner and examining a scroll. When they left a few minutes later, Williamson joined them, once they were out of sight of the Hog's Head.

He marched ahead as an advance guard and his long ponytail swayed with each step. He still wore the scarlet robes he favored, although it seemed an odd choice for a secretive Auror.

The weather was perfect for a walk. Harry was half-expecting something to happen on the way to Hogwarts, although it was unlikely the enemy knew his current whereabouts. He breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the gates and McGonagall opened them with a wand flick. He remembered when Snape had let him in after Malfoy stomped him on the train, and wondered if they had done anything to prevent Snape from returning.

He would have asked, but experienced a horrible flashback walking across the grounds. He remembered cursing Snape, feeling more rage than he would have thought possible, sending hex after hex and watching them deflected. Guilt nearly overwhelmed him. He should have been able to stop Snape. He should have at least captured Dumbledore's murderer. How could he have allowed Snape to flee?

He glanced over at Hagrid's hut and was glad to see signs of recent repair. He made a mental promise to stop in and see how Hagrid was doing.

They walked into the school, following McGonagall. Williamson left them at the school doors with a wave, promising to stop in before he left for the Ministry. Their footsteps echoed emptily.

"It's kind of creepy when no one's here," Ron said in a stage whisper.

"Yeah, it's like when we're sneaking around after hours, but in the day time."

"I expect you boys will want to stay in Gryffindor Tower while you're here?" McGonagall asked. Harry nodded. He couldn't imagine staying elsewhere, even though it would be odd to be there alone.

"Lupin is sending your things along."

They followed her to the Headmaster's Office and Harry tried not to think of all the times he'd come here to see Dumbledore. He was glad to see the office itself had changed slightly. For some reason, it was easier to bear. Several items had been removed, including Fawkes's perch. A large vase of flowers now occupied a corner of the desk. Harry's eyes were drawn immediately to the newest portrait on the wall. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled at him.

"Hello, Harry," the portrait said kindly.

"Hello," Harry whispered.

"I have a message for you. Ah. Here it comes now."

Fawkes swept through the open window in a red flash of wings. He hovered in front of Harry and dropped a small scroll. Harry caught it and the phoenix flew upwards and back out the window. Harry walked to the window embrasure, sat down, and broke the wax seal.

_Dear Harry, If you are reading this scroll, it means that I have at last gone to explore the final mystery. I did not wish to leave you so soon, and so dreadfully unprepared, but perhaps this will make amends for my lack of vision and reluctance to give you the tools you need for the difficult road ahead. Alas, the only help I have for you is little more than knowledge and speculation. To that end, I have left you my Pensieve, which I know you will seek out as soon as you feel you are ready. Several important memories have been prepared for you. They have been arranged in chronological order, for the most part, beginning with that fateful day in October. That one is not my own, and it will be difficult to bear, but I now know that you are strong enough to carry this dreadful burden that has been placed on you. I will assist you in every way possible, even though I am beyond the veil. Faithfully yours, Albus Dumbledore._

Harry wordlessly handed the scroll to Ron and then got up and walked to the cabinet where Dumbledore had kept the Pensieve. On a shelf above sat several rows of silvery vials. The first was marked with a label that read: _Sirius Black. Godric's Hollow. (October, 1981.) _ Harry shut his eyes for a moment and thought about Dumbledore's words. He was not certain he _was_ strong enough to handle that particular memory, and suddenly knew why Dumbledore had withheld it.

He grasped the vial and tugged the Pensieve from its resting place.

"Are you certain you want to do that now, Potter?" McGonagall asked apprehensively. He didn't want to do it at all.

"Yes."

He took the Pensieve to the window seat in order to be out of McGonagall's way while she dealt with her letters. Harry looked at Ron.

"You need not stay… unless you want to come along?"

He half-wished Ron would refuse, as the memories would affect Harry on such a personal level he wasn't sure he wanted a witness. But, Ron had stood by him through every adversity. It would not be fair to exclude him.

"I'll come," Ron said. "Too bad Hermione isn't here. She might notice something we miss. You know how she is. I'll try and pay attention. For clues, you know?"

Harry nodded. He hadn't thought of that.

"Here we go, then." He uncorked the vial and let the wisp of memory swirl into the basin. He and Ron lowered their faces and the same time… and entered the past.

They found themselves in a small cottage. Seated on a comfortable-looking settee were the two people Harry would have given anything imaginable to reach out and touch, if only for a moment. His father looked the same as he had in the Mirror of Erised, but so much more real. He looked relaxed, with one arm around Lily and the other tapping his wand on the cushion in a catchy rhythm. Harry walked forward and knelt before his parents to get a better look. Lily was next to James and one hand rested on his knee. The other held an infant and she smiled down at its tiny face. Harry tore his eyes away from his mother and looked into his own countenance. Baby Harry cooed and yanked at a strand of his mother's red hair. His own thatch of black hair was unruly even then.

"Let's get this done, then," a familiar voice said behind Harry and he turned to see two others seated in chairs that had been pulled close to the settee. Sirius had been shockingly handsome before Azkaban, Harry noted. His black hair was sleek as a raven's wing and a single lock dangled over his forehead to cover one eye. Harry bet hundreds of women would have fought for the job of brushing that errant lock back into place. His chiseled face was serious at the moment, but his dark eyes gleamed with perpetual merriment, so different and carefree from the Sirius Harry had known.

Next to him sat Peter Pettigrew, looking neatly groomed, but slightly jumpy. He perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair, as if he wanted to run from the room. Harry wished with all his might that Peter could be made real in that moment. Harry would have ended it right there, before it began.

"Are you sure about this, Sirius?" Peter asked apprehensively. "I still say _you_ should be the Secret Keeper, not me."

His eyes pleaded with Sirius. He practically begged not to be given the knowledge. _Listen to him_, Harry thought desperately. _He doesn't want to betray you, but he knows he will._ Beads of sweat stood out on Pettigrew's forehead and his nose twitched nervously.

"Nonsense," Sirius said brusquely, the picture of confidence. "They'll never suspect you, Peter. It's the perfect plan. If anyone, they'll come after me, and this way I won't be able to tell them a thing."

"Let's pray it never comes to that," Lily said worriedly.

Sirius laughed, a barklike sound much less harsh that the one Harry was used to. One that he would never hear again. It broke his heart to hear it.

"Of course they'll never catch me. I'm far too tricky for that. This is just a precaution. We have to protect Harry. Just in case."

James sighed explosively. "If not for Harry, we wouldn't be here at all. We'd be out there, fighting with the rest of you."

Harry turned back to see his mother's green eyes flash.

"Don't say you're sorry, James," she snapped and removed her hand from his knee. James held up a hand with a laugh.

"Down, Mrs. Potter! Never think it! I adore Harry. I just hate hiding here like scared rabbits."

"We're not hiding like rabbits. There is nothing to stop us from walking out of here and being killed alongside the others. This is simply a precaution to keep Harry safe while we're here. Besides, you'll be back to work next week."

"May we get on with this?" Sirius broke in impatiently.

Without further adieu, baby Harry was placed into Sirius's waiting hands. He merrily joggled and made faces and tickled the baby while the other three solemnly joined hands. Harry barely paid attention while his mother cast the spell that sealed their fate. He didn't want to watch at all.

When it was done, James said, "All right, Secret Keeper Pettigrew. Tell Sirius the secret so that he may come and go as he pleases."

Peter obediently told Sirius where the Potter family could be found. Then he asked, "Should I tell Remus?"

Sirius and James shot each other a look over Peter's head.

"Not quite yet, Peter. Not quite yet," Sirius said softly.

Harry looked at Ron, whose face was stricken. Neither of them spoke. Harry thought the memory was over, but the scene was swept away and replaced by another. Sirius was opening the door to a small, much cluttered flat. He carried a box.

"Peter! I've brought food." He kicked aside a pile of clothing and set the box on the table after shoving aside a stack of refuse. "Bloody hell, you would be comfortable living in a sewer with the other rats, wouldn't you? Peter?"

Sirius froze suddenly and Harry felt his heart clench with his godfather's.

He screamed Peter's name once more and his expression showed stark terror before he turned and pounded out the door.

The scene shifted again and Harry gasped. He and Ron were flying, although Harry felt no breeze stir his hair. They flew next to Sirius, who sped through the dark sky pushing his flying motorbike to the limit. It touched the street and skid to a spine-jolting halt, but Sirius was off and running for the ruined house before the bike hit the ground.

"No, no, no, no, no," Harry heard him moan as he ran beside Sirius. Hagrid stood near the rubble, holding a small bundle. Sirius raced past him to a dark shape near what remained of the front door. He flung himself on the ground next to the body of Harry's father, and grabbed him by the shoulders. James's dark head lolled and Sirius pressed a hand to his neck in futility. Harry felt tears of his own start to fall as Sirius clutched James to his chest and sobbed in sheer misery, still murmuring words of denial as if the chant would cause everything to un-happen. Sirius sat that way for a long time, rocking miserably, until Hagrid coughed quietly behind him. As Harry watched, Sirius set James gently back on the earth and stood up. His face was like carved marble.

"Where's Lily?" he rasped.

"There, in the rubble," Hagrid admitted. "Don'… Don' go in, Sirius. 'S too late."

Sirius looked at the tumbled ruins that Harry had visited just that morning, although the exposed timbers looked raw as a fresh wound. Harry prayed Sirius would listen. He didn't want to see his mother… Sirius hitched a breath, but seemed to regain his composure as he turned to Hagrid and noticed the bundle clutched in Hagrid's huge hands.

"Is it Harry? Is he alive?"

"Yeh. Don' know why. Got a bad cut on 'is head, here."

"Can I have him?" Sirius asked and his voice broke slightly. Hagrid shook his head and clutched the baby convulsively. The child whimpered, but made no other sound.

"Naw, Dumbledore gave me strict orders. Take Harry to a safe place 'til he says come out."

"But, I'm his godfather! I'm all Harry has left!"

Hagrid's face was set. "You can take it up wi' Dumbledore, but Harry is comin' wi' me."

For a moment, Sirius looked bereft and Harry thought he might break down again. Harry felt like doing so. Then a terrible expression came over Sirius's features, a glacial rage that overcame and destroyed the beautiful spark of merriment that had lived in his eyes. Harry ached to see it go; knowing the Sirius that loved every moment of life was lost forever, replaced by a vengeful spirit that would never know another moment of peace. Never again, until a stone archway draped with a torn cloth took him back to those he loved.

"_Peter_," Sirius snarled, so low that Harry doubted Hagrid even heard him. Sirius reached up and gently touched baby Harry's head for a moment. Then he skirted Hagrid and walked away.

"Sirius! Where yeh goin'?"

"You can take my motorbike, Hagrid," Sirius called back. "I won't need it any more."

The mists swirled, and Harry found himself sitting next to Ron before the Pensieve. Ron's cheeks were wet with tears, as were Harry's.

"I need to take a walk," Harry said raggedly. He left the Headmaster's office, sank down in an empty alcove, and cried until he had nothing left to weep.


	16. Chapter 16 Spells and Messages

**Chapter Sixteen – Spells and Messages**

Harry wasn't certain how long he sat alone with his grief, but at last he got to his feet and wandered aimlessly until he ended up in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was already there, playing both sides in a game of wizard chess.

"That was brutal," Ron said after a muted greeting. Harry nodded and Ron continued, "I've been thinking, though. How did Dumbledore know to send Hagrid to Godric's Hollow? Sirius should have been the first one there. It was him that discovered Wormtail gone and suspected something was wrong. So, who told Dumbledore?"

Harry didn't want to think about it. He was drained of emotion and wanted something to take his mind off the terrible memory. Ron was right, though. It was a curious question. Unfortunately, the only two people who could have answered it were gone.

"Pettigrew must have told someone else," Harry said. "Someone else was watching."

"They must have left right when You-Know-Who got there, then. They didn't stay to help."

Harry pondered the thought and suddenly had a very bad feeling about the identity of the informer.

"It was Snape," he said with finality. "Wormtail probably told him before he told Voldemort. The greasy git probably watched it all. He wouldn't have lifted a finger to stop it, though, would he? As much as he hated my dad." Harry sneered. "He probably stood out there and cheered, until it went bad and his great master was vaporized. That's when he ran to Dumbledore with his warning. I bet he sounded _so sorry_ that he couldn't do anything to save them." Harry slammed a fist down on the chessboard, sending pieces scrambling to escape. "How could Dumbledore have believed him?"

Ron shook his head. "Maybe we'll find out in another memory he saved for you. Hopefully not right now, though."

"Not right now," Harry agreed. "I've had enough for one day, I think."

"Let's go nick some food from the kitchen, then. I'm starving."

The kitchens were ominously quiet due to the lack of activity. The house-elves had only the sparse staff members to cook for. Harry wondered what the house-elves did the rest of the time. Was there a house-elf recreation room? Did they go on holiday? Enough house-elves were present; however, that Harry and Ron were soon loaded up with more food than they could carry. Harry wondered where Dobby had gone. Perhaps Lupin had sent him on a secret mission.

"Hello! Fancy meetin' you here."

Harry smiled at the astonishing sight of Fred and George Weasley walking into the kitchen as though it were an everyday occurrence.

"What are you doing here?" Ron mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit.

"We heard Harry was here," George said.

"So we thought we'd stop by," Fred continued.

"We have some new tricks."

"Cooked up 'specially for you, Harry."

"How did you get here?" Harry asked.

"Came through the tunnel from Hogsmeade."

"You know they can't keep us out."

The Weasley twins joined Harry and Ron in their feast and then guided them to an empty Charms classroom.

"Fitting, this is," George said as he looked around.

"Yeah, most of our spells are Charms."

"Harry, remember when you said it would be nice if Canary Creams could be used as a spell?"

"Well, it got us to thinkin'. Usually we work our spells onto objects, like the Canary Creams or Shield Hats. But, it really wasn't that hard to convert them."

"Takes a bit more effort, but not as much finesse."

"Like this," Fred said and pointed his wand at Ron. "_Aviana!_"

Ron instantly became a yellow canary that chirped angrily as it twittered around the twins' heads, trying to peck them. Fred waved it off and terminated the spell.

"That wasn't funny!" Ron snapped when he was himself again.

"Of course, they can still fly around and peck at you as a bird, obviously. Plus, the spell doesn't last very long. A few minutes only," explained George.

"This one is more effective," Fred said. Ron threw up a hand to ward off the next spell, but he was enveloped in a huge bubble. He relaxed when he saw it wasn't doing anything to him, and then scowled and prodded at it sharply with his wand. It did not pop. It looked like Plexiglas to Harry.

"I hope he doesn't cast a spell in there," George commented.

"Yeah, it just bounces around. Thing's darn near impenetrable."

"Eventually, whoever is in there will run out of air."

Fred sent the counterspell and the bubble disappeared without a sound.

"At least that one didn't hurt," Ron said grumpily. "Hot in there, though."

"This next one doesn't quite cross the line into the Dark Arts…"

"But it stands next to the line. Maybe with one toe over."

"Frankly, Mum would freak if she knew where we got a lot of our ideas. We nicked quite a few books from the Restricted Section when we were here."

"After all, giving people black eyes, causing them to faint, and making them puke aren't exactly what you'd call nice magic."

"But our spells don't do any permanent damage," Fred explained and flicked his wand at Ron again. "_Caecus!_"

"Hey! Hey, I can't see!" Ron's hands waved frantically in front of his eyes and his voice was high-pitched and panicky.

"Calm down, little brother," George said soothingly. "We know the counterspell."

"That was a scary one, though," Fred said.

"Yeah, Fred was blind for three days until I figured out the right spell to reverse it. I had to be both of us whenever Mum came round. It was exhausting."

"Take it off!" Ron yelled, flailing.

"_Aspicas_," said George and Ron sighed in relief before glaring at the twins.

"Stop using me for a test subject!"

"Quit worryin'. We've practiced these on each other loads of times. Now, we'll teach you two."

The twins showed Harry and Ron the mechanics of the three spells and they practiced on each other most of the afternoon. Harry was pleased to have some new spells in his arsenal that the Death Eaters did not know.

"We'd better get back to the shop," Fred said finally.

"We've got fine employees, but they don't know our stock the way we do."

"We'll come back soon and show you a few more, Harry. Keep practicing those."

They started out.

"Let's go visit our swamp before we leave."

"Good idea. We should say 'hi' to Peeves, too."

"I kind of miss the old place, don't you?"

"Not really, no."

Their voices grew fainter as they departed and Harry looked at Ron.

"It's been a productive day, I'd say."

Ron nodded and yawned. "Productive and tiring. I'm going to the kitchen and then to bed."

"Great idea. Remind me to send Hedwig to Hermione."

"Yeah. What the hell is she doing, anyway? She should be here."

Hermione released Draco as soon as they arrived at their destination. She leaned close to him as if examining his face.

"What?" he asked with eyes narrowed.

"Interesting. No blood, boils, nor even a rash. You seem to have survived the touch of a Muggle-born completely unscathed."

He scowled.

"You've touched me before." In that very same spot, now that he thought about it. But, definitely not as gently.

She stepped away and laughed at the memory.

"True. You didn't get out of that one unscathed."

"You needn't sound so smug about it." He took in there surroundings. "Your Muggle house? I could have Apparated her on my own, you know. _If_ someone would return my wand," he said pointedly.

She held up both wands and wiggled them for a moment before tucking them into her back pocket. He allowed her no sign of annoyance. "Is this the best place you could think of?"

"Do you think the Death Eaters will come back here so soon?"

Draco shook his head. "Probably not. They'll find other targets."

Hermione bit her lip at that. "You're right. Damn, I've been running about so much today I didn't even think… Oh no! Neville! If they went after Luna, he could be next. I don't know where he lives or I'd go warn him."

She glared at Draco as if it were his fault. "You know, the wizarding world could learn a bit from the Muggles when it comes to communication." She lifted the handset from a nearby telephone. "With this, I can reach any Muggle household in the world." She dropped the headset back into the cradle and pointed her wand at the fireplace. A burst of white light sprang from the end and disappeared up the chimney. She tsked.

"Well, that will take some time, but it's the best I can do at the moment. Are you hungry?"

Without waiting for his answer, she went into the kitchen and rummaged in the cupboards. He watched her surreptitiously while pretending to look at all the oddities in the kitchen. She was an energetic girl, he had to admit. She flitted around from cupboard to cupboard. He tried to remember if he'd ever seen her wearing Muggle clothing before. If he had, it wasn't memorable. What she wore now wasn't memorable, either, exactly. She had on rather form-fitting pale blue jeans and a simple white shirt with short sleeves. An odd word was emblazoned across her chest in pink letters. Draco had examined it in Dover while she had been determinedly transfiguring his clothing. It read ADIDAS. He wondered what it meant.

She absently brushed her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. He noted that it could no longer be classified as "bushy". Her hair was still rampant with curls, but they were tamer, now. Less frizz and more loops. The ends nearly touched her waist. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he would have to admit her hair was actually rather pretty. In fact, _she_ was rather… He clamped down on that line of thinking immediately. Just because she had developed quite a nice package to put into her ADIDAS shirt and blue jeans… well, damn it, she was still Hermione Granger, the girl he despised more than any other female on the planet.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, annoyed at the train of his thoughts and happy to take it out on her as she traipsed around the kitchen compiling food, pots, and utensils.

"Cooking, of course."

"Are you a witch, or aren't you?"

She stared at him for a moment as if wondering what he was talking about.

"I see. It must be odd for Mr. Pureblood to watch someone do manual labor. I was only recently allowed to use magic here, so I'm used to doing everything the old way. My parents weren't very comfortable when I used magic. Besides, it's two steps to the cupboard. Rather a waste to use a wand. You can sit down, you know. The chairs won't eat you."

Draco tugged a small black book from the pocket of his trench coat before tossing the coat over a nearby chair. While Hermione grilled ham steaks and toasted crumpets, Draco flipped through his book and sat gingerly in the chair.

"Have you heard of a Horcrux?" he asked her suddenly.

Hermione nearly dropped the jug of milk she was holding as she gasped. She set the container on the counter carefully.

"Where did you hear that word?"

"So, you _do_ know what it is."

"I know what it is," she snapped. "Do _you_ know what it is?"

"Yes."

She watched him warily, as if seeking a sign of weakness. He did the same to her.

"Do you know _where_ they are?" she asked.

"No. Do you?"

Hermione looked instantly disappointed, which confirmed that she did, indeed, know what a Horcrux was. Dumbledore must have figured it out and told them.

"Have you destroyed any?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"You know, I really don't like you very much."

"The feeling is more than mutual!" she snapped.

He glared at her and she glared back. She turned and slapped the ham steaks on the toasted cheese crumpets and topped each with a pineapple ring. She joined Draco at the table and they ate in stony silence. The sandwich was actually quite good, but Draco would rather have torn out his own tongue than admitted it. Hermione ignored him completely.

"How long do you plan to keep me here?" Draco asked when the tension had grown thick enough to wade through.

"Until I hear from the Order of the Phoenix," she said abruptly.

"Lovely," he sneered. He was trapped in a Muggle house until Little Miss Gryffindor saw fit to let him leave. He wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed him to help her in the first place. He got up from the table and walked away. He moved around lounge looking at the strange, non-moving family photographs and bric-a-brac. Hermione returned the dishes to the kitchen and dispensed with the "manual labor" in order to clean the dishes with a quick spell. She also zipped them back into their places with barely a clink. Showing off, most likely.

"Why did you ask me about Horcruxes?" she asked.

His lips curled into a wicked smile. He said nothing. Her expression of frustration was immensely satisfying.

She joined him in the lounge and sat on the couch. She gestured to a nearby chair.

"Let's play a little game called _quid pro quo_. It means—"

"I know what it means," Draco snapped. "Who goes first?"

He thought he heard her teeth crack as she clenched them together.

She gritted, "I'll go first, of course, because I know you'd rather have all your fingernails torn out than volunteer, correct?"

Draco sat in the chair with no comment. He smirked, though, because he knew she hated that.

"A Horcrux is a storage device for a part of one's soul," she began.

"Voldemort's soul," Draco admitted.

"Horcruxes are the reason he did not die. He cannot die unless the Horcrux is destroyed first."

"You and your friends plan to destroy them."

"All seven of them."

He was shocked and actually gaped at her. Snape had left out that tidbit of knowledge. "_Seven?_"

She nodded. "Two of them are already gone. Hopefully one other, although we can't confirm it."

Bloody hell. Seven. "I may know where to find one," he admitted.

To her credit, she kept her features carefully blank.

"Will you tell me where?"

He pulled a slip of paper from his black book and handed it to her. It read: _Go to the house of Tom Riddle Sr._

"Who gave this to you?"

"Severus Snape. Right after he told me about Horcruxes."

She blinked at him.

"_Snape?_ Who's side is he on?"

"As far as I can tell—Snape's."

She shook her head. "Where is the house of Tom Riddle, Sr.? Only Dumbledore knew."

"Turn it over," Draco said dryly.

On the back was a map.


	17. Chapter 17 The Dark Mark

**Chapter Seventeen – The Dark Mark**

Their conversation was interrupted by an owl tapping on the parlour window. Hermione hurried over and opened it to admit Harry Potter's white owl. She removed a message from its leg and scanned it quickly.

"Don't leave, Hedwig. I'll have a return reply." She set the scroll on the end table and went to the kitchen. While she rummaged for something, Draco picked up the message, having no qualms about reading other people's mail.

_H, R wants to know what the hell you're doing. We need your help with something so get a move on. H._

"You're in trouble now," Draco commented.

She threw Hedwig an owl treat and sat down to write a reply. At that moment, a silvery shape burst out of the fireplace. It actually enveloped Hermione for an instant and she looked like a semi-solid ghost. Draco watched curiously, but assumed from her unconcerned pose that she wasn't under attack. The silver nimbus dissipated, but her face remained pale. She dropped the parchment and quill.

"It's Neville. They think he was taken. I have the address now, but we'll have to _Apparate_ blind." She stood up and gestured at him impatiently.

"_We?_ I certainly don't need to go. I'll wait here for you."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight. Now, come on."

He rose in annoyance and she stepped close to him again. He was very glad he was tall enough to look down upon her.

"You're enormously bossy, you know?"

"It's been mentioned. Here, you might need this."

He was surprised to see her offering his wand. He took it and quirked a brow at her.

"Do you have to touch me again? Can't you just _tell_ me where it is?"

Her brown eyes flashed and she grabbed his chin rather ungently. She tugged his face downward and leaned into his chest while raising her lips… Bloody hell! She wasn't going to—!

The squeezing blackness of _Apparition_ drowned all other sensation. When they arrived, Hermione released him and stepped away quickly with a giggle.

"Oh my, that was rich. You should have seen your face." She laughed. Draco was about to flay her with a scathing retort when his comment was overwhelmed by someone shouting Hermione's name. She sobered at once and turned. She gasped so loudly it was nearly a shriek. Draco followed her gaze and saw a green, glowing Dark Mark hovering in the growing shadows over the house. He had a sinking feeling. Had they killed Longbottom, then? Hermione hurried toward the shouter.

The shade was growing as evening approached, but it was light enough to see that they were in a neat garden near double-doors that opened into a large house. A man in a top hot stood in the doorway, fairly jumping up and down.

"Come quickly!" he yelled. "She's in a bad way! I've just located her!"

Hermione raced inside and Draco reluctantly followed. They hurried up several flights of stairs and came to a large, mostly destroyed, bedchamber. The man was bending over a shape partially beneath the shattered remains of the bed. Hermione gasped.

"Mrs. Longbottom!"

"They didn't even give her the _Avada Kedavra_," the man snapped. "Just blew apart the room and left her trapped to die. The bed frame was half crushing her. We got here just in time. One leg is broke for sure. Bastards cast the Dark Mark too soon, lucky for us." Unless the Mark was for Neville, Draco thought.

"We've got to get her to St. Mungos," Hermione said.

"I know! I was waiting for Jack. He's looking for the boy. I'll take her and you can find Jack."

He gently lifted Neville Longbottom's unconscious grandmother and they both disappeared with a crack. Hermione looked at Draco worriedly.

"Who's Jack?" Draco asked.

"I'm Jack," said a voice behind them. A scarlet-clad wizard with extremely long hair pulled back into a ponytail strolled in. "Hermione. The boy is not to be found. It appears they took him." Draco was glad to see someone of Hermione's acquaintance that didn't want to kill him at first glance. Apparently, the man had no idea who Draco was.

"Why would they do that? They've been trying to kill everyone else," Draco said.

"Do you know for certain they planned to kill Luna?" Hermione asked.

Draco thought about it for a moment. "No. Snape brought me through. He said it was another chance for me to become a true Death Eater, but he may have meant for me to kill her father."

"They wanted to capture someone, I'm sure. They're setting a trap for Harry," Hermione whispered. Draco realized the attack on Hermione's parents might have been an attempt to seize Hermione for the same purpose.

Jack nodded.

"I'm afraid so. I'll inform the Order. Are you coming?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've got to tell Harry."

"What can he do? We've got to find Neville, first. We don't want Potter to rush off and be captured to no purpose."

Hermione sighed heavily. "All right. I'm going to stay here for a bit and see if the Death Eaters left anything for us to work out. Let the others decide what to do about Harry," she said wearily. Draco wondered how many times she had _Apparated_ that day. Three that he knew of. She looked like she would gladly collapse at any moment.

The man called Jack nodded and _Disapparated_.

"Do you know where they took him?" Hermione asked Draco seriously.

He nodded. "I have an idea."

"Can we get him back?"

"No. Not without a massive fight on your hands. You can't find the place, anyway. It's _Unplottable_."

Hermione clenched her hands together around her wand. "We can't just let them torture Neville! They can't do to him what they did to his parents. They just can't."

Draco said nothing, since it was his own relatives that had performed the deed she referenced.

"_You_ could go get him!" she said suddenly.

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Are you mad? You want me to go on a suicide mission to rescue your friend Longbottom from a house full of Death Eaters? Do you think they'll just let me walk in there and escort him out?"

"You could take me with you. The two of us might have a chance." Her face was earnest, desperate, and pleading.

"I am _not_ Harry Potter," Draco said brutally. "I will not go rushing into the jaws of death and rely on ridiculous Gryffindor luck to pull us through by the thread of a robe. You are supposed to be intelligent! You know the two of us will never be able to take on the Lestranges, McNair, Mulciber the Devil, Lars, and the rest. And you know what will happen if Fenrir Greyback is there? He will tear out your tender throat and laugh while he does it. If you're lucky, you'll be dead when he's through with you."

Tears sparkled in her eyes and she glared at him.

"You're afraid!" she accused.

"I'm realistic!" he snapped. "I know what they're capable of and I don't intend to throw my life away."

"Is that the only reason you left them? To save your own bloody skin?" she yelled. Draco reacted as if slapped. He spun on a heel and marched down the stairs.

Stupid overemotional Gryffindor idiot! He would never understand the Gryffindor mentality. Even the smart ones thought nothing of barging willy-nilly into colossal peril, against insurmountable odds, just because they thought it was the proper thing to do.

He stalked outside and noticed the sun had set, tingeing the sky with red and gold. For a brief, ludicrous moment, he considered _Apparating_ to Malfoy Manor. Not because _she_ asked him to, but because… because it's what Harry Potter would have done. His fist clenched tightly around his wand. _Harry fricking Potter_.

"Malfoy, wait!" she called behind him.

He halted and wondered what verbal torment she had for him, now. She grasped his arm and turned him to face her. He glowered at her and noticed her face looked like burnished gold in the twilight. Her hair glinted, halo-like.

"I'm sorry," she said, to his astonishment. "I shouldn't have asked you. This isn't even your fight and here I am, trying to drag you into it. I forgot you would have to fight your own parents…"

Draco hadn't. He knew he'd never have to fight his parents. No matter what lip service they paid to Voldemort, they would both die rather than harm Draco. He knew that to be true above all else. The thought made him suddenly wonder what they were doing. His mother was probably frantic, thinking him dead or captured by the enemy. He wished he could send her a message, but that would only put her in danger.

Hermione's hand fell away. "I need to do something or I think I'll go crazy," she said.

"Fine. Let's do something," he suggested. "Let's go to the Riddle house."

"Go after the Horcrux?"

He nodded. "Probably still dangerous, but somewhat less likely to get us killed. Hopefully."

She gnawed on her lip for a moment. "All right. I feel like I'm letting Neville down, though."

"You'd be letting him down more by getting _Avada Kedavraed_. I'm sure your Order will think of something."

"I hope so."

"Come on," he said, "I'll take us through this time."

She waited as he stepped close to her and reached out. He snaked his arm around her waist and pressed her fully against him. Her eyes were huge as she stared at him in surprise.

"You're a little too trusting, aren't you?" he asked and triggered the spell.


	18. Chapter 18 Plots and Counterplots

**Chapter Eighteen – Plots and Counterplots**

Harry was tired from his grueling day, as was Ron, so they turned in early. Harry found sleep impossible, however. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see the dead body of his father or the stricken face of Sirius Black.

He finally gave up and left Ron sleeping in the tower while he went down to sit in the Gryffindor common room. Hedwig had not returned and he wondered what Hermione was doing. It wasn't like her to not even send a reply. He wondered if Devlin Whitehorn had turned out to be genuine.

Dobby suddenly appeared with a crack, nearly starting Harry out of his skin.

"Harry Potter, sir! The Order is coming to Hogwarts! Something has happened."

"What has happened, Dobby?" he asked and tried to calm his racing pulse.

"Dobby does not know, Harry Potter. But, they are coming here to meet because the new members cannot enter the Order Headquarters. Jack Williamson sent word to Remus Lupin, but Dobby does not know the message."

"Yes, well even if they are meeting here, it would be like them to exclude me and Ron. Thank you for telling me, Dobby."

"Harry Potter asked Dobby to keep him informed and Dobby will do as Harry Potter requests above all else!"

"Let me know where they gather. I'll wake Ron and we'll be there."

Harry sat back for a moment and considered. He was curious to see if Lupin would bother to notify him. They had been forthcoming with information while Harry was safely ensconced at Number 4, Privet Drive, but now that he was out where he might do something rash and dangerous… Well, they were just trying to protect him. Or so they would say.

He went back upstairs and dressed before prodding Ron.

"G'way, Mum!" Ron growled and smacked at Harry. "Have Fred and George do it!"

Harry shook him harder. "I'm not your mum, Ron. Wake up."

Ron sat up, blinking.

"What's the matter? Is it Hermione?"

Harry explained and Ron tugged his clothes on.

"Something must be up to bring them here at this hour."

They waited tensely in the common room and Ron massacred Harry in a game of wizard's chess.

"You're not even paying attention!" Ron griped as his queen smashed Harry's last knight.

Harry pushed his chair back.

"I know. Hopefully, they don't plan to meet tomorrow, or next Thursday, or two weeks before school starts. Dobby wasn't very specific."

"You mean you _assumed_ he meant tonight?"

Before Harry could admit to that stupidity, Dobby popped back into the room.

"Harry Potter, sir, they are here. Meeting in the Great Hall."

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said and threw Ron a relieved glance. They were about to climb through the portrait hole when Lupin's silver _Patronus_ enveloped Harry. Lupin's voice came to Harry as though from a great distance, an oddity unique to _Patronus_ messaging.

_Harry, the Order is meeting downstairs. We have news you need to hear_. The mist dissipated.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"They actually told me to come down."

"It's bad news," Ron said in trepidation. "They wouldn't have bothered if it was routine."

Harry wanted to believe otherwise, but he had a grim suspicion Ron was right. They hurried downstairs and entered the Great Hall. It was strange to see the place so empty, and stranger still to see most of the Order of the Phoenix in one place. Harry waved at Kingsley Shacklebolt, Jack Williamson, Dedalus Diggle, and others he hadn't seen in awhile. Dobby waved him to a saved seat.

"Harry, we have bad news," Lupin said, cutting the greetings short. "Neville Longbottom has been captured and his grandmother nearly killed. She is at St. Mungos… and we don't know where Neville has gone."

Harry sat down hard at the news. Neville taken? How could he have been so stupid? As soon as the Death Eaters went after Luna, they should have warned the other members of Dumbledore's Army, at least!

"We foolishly though they wouldn't attack twice in one day," Lupin said.

"Do we have any idea where Neville could be?"

Moody started to speak, but an elbow from Kingsley Shacklebolt silenced him, except for a muted grumbling. Harry noted the exchange and wondered what they were hiding.

"I don't think it matters. It's fairly clear they plan to use Neville as a decoy to draw you out, Harry. They'll let us know where he is, soon enough."

Harry felt sick. He could only imagine the hell Bellatrix Lestrange and the rest of the Death Eaters would put Neville through.

"We've got to do something!"

"All we can do is plan our strategy for when they request your presence. Now, we have a couple of ideas…"

Harry listened with half an ear, knowing any strategy they planned would likely be useless until they had more specific information. He noticed Tonks move surreptitiously down the table to sit next to Arthur Weasley. They chatted briefly and then Arthur grabbed parchment and began to draw what looked suspiciously like a map. He pointed out various points on his drawing and talked to Tonks in a low voice. She nodded several times and asked question.

Ron drew Harry's attention when he asked, "Where's Hermione?"

Harry had been wondering the same thing. Jack Williamson spoke up.

"She stayed at the Longbottom house to see if the Death Eaters left any evidence of where they might have taken Neville." He chuckled. "At least, that was her story. I rather think she wanted to be alone with that handsome chap she was with."

Ron's eyes narrowed.

"What handsome chap? You mean Devlin Whitehorn?"

Jack laughed again and raised a brow at Ron. "Devlin Whitehorn? Not unless he has a son or grandson by the same name. Frankly, this lad looked too handsome to be Devlin's kin."

"What did he look like, exactly?" Harry asked, hardly able to believe Hermione would have abandoned them to for a handsome stranger. In fact, he could hardly even picture her with a handsome stranger.

"Tall, blond, slender. About your height, Harry. Sterling good looks. Ruddy familiar, too, although I can't quite place the face… It'll come to me."

Harry said nothing. It would explain Hermione's lack of communication, he supposed, although she'd better have a bloody good explanation. Ron was griping bitterly. Harry noticed Tonks slipping out of the room and wondered what she was up to. He was an expert at sneaking, and her movements definitely hinted at sneaking.

"Dobby, go keep an eye on Tonks," he whispered. Dobby nodded gravely and disappeared.

Draco kept a tight grip on Hermione when she began to struggle in his arms. He spoke in a low voice next to her ear.

"Keep still or we'll both be very dead."

"Where are we?" Hermione whispered when he released her.

"My room. Welcome to Malfoy Manor." As expected, his room was empty. At this hour, the Death Eaters had a tendency to hang out in the dining room or the drawing room, drinking firewhiskey and reminiscing about the bad old days.

Her eyes flashed at him suspiciously.

"What are we doing here?"

"I'm turning you over to the Dark Lord to get back into his good graces," Draco said snidely. She glared at him, but had managed to catch the sarcasm, apparently. Draco smiled without amusement. "You said you wanted to get Longbottom back, so here we are in the jaws of death. I hope you're happy."

She inhaled sharply and distrust warred with hope in her eyes.

"Where is he?"

"In the basement, most likely. If he's in the parlour, we're out of luck."

"Why?"

"You don't want to know." He walked to his wardrobe and pulled out a long, hooded black cloak. He handed it to her and grabbed another for himself. He had dozens. Black cloaks were pretty much the Malfoy signature outfit. "This won't fool anyone, but a quick glance might not draw attention. Too bad we don't have an Invisibility Cloak like your friend, Potter. Now, be quiet, follow my lead, and try not to get us killed," he ordered and pulled the hood up to cover his too-bright hair.

He crept to the door and opened it. No one was in sight, so he walked straight across the hall to the door opposite, pointing at a board on the way and gesturing to Hermione not to step on it. She hurried to join him and he shut the door. He lit his wand to illuminate a small water closet.

"No one uses this because it's broken," he murmured. "The reason it's broken is because it hides this." He cast a quick spell and a section of wall opened up to reveal a staircase leading downward. Intimate knowledge: the benefit of breaking into your own house. "I've marked the ones that squeak, so don't tread on them. Be bloody silent; we pass close to the kitchen and it's usually occupied." Hermione nodded intently. Nothing was visible beneath her black hood except a couple of curls and her chin. He sighed and tucked the wayward curls inside her cloak. She raised her face to look at him curiously; her eyes looked huge in the gloom.

They crept down the stairs and he sealed the portal behind them. Draco's wand provided a mere hint of dim light. Several steps were marked with a reddish glow and he carefully stepped over those. He bypassed the concealed door that led outside and continued downward to the basement.

He listened carefully for long moments before he readied a spell and opened the door. On the basement side, it was a blank wall panel and it slipped aside noiselessly. Draco's spell winged across the room and caught McNair completely unaware. The Death Eater and the chair he'd been sitting in toppled over sideways. Luckily, the imported Persian carpet muffled the thump. Across from McNair's fallen chair slumped Neville Longbottom. He had been bound hand and foot to a hard wooden chair and his chin rested upon his chest. He was either unconscious or dead. Hermione bustled by Draco and rushed to Neville's side.

Draco, much more cautious, made certain no other Death Eaters had been assigned to guard Longbottom. He pushed his hood back a bit to allow better vision. He noted with disgust that McNair had been eating crisps. Large crumbs littered the expensive carpet. Uncouth lout.

A crack warned them of _Apparition_ and Hermione straightened to face the danger. Bellatrix Lestrange stared at Draco in surprise. In the blink of an eye, she raised her wand and sent a paralyzing spell at Draco. Though he'd been expecting it, his _Protego_ was infinitesimally too slow.

"We're dead," he thought just before Hermione's spell caught Bellatrix, who was suddenly as frozen as Draco. He couldn't move a muscle and watched in amazement as a house-elf stepped out from behind Bella's robes. He thought it was Kreacher for a moment.

"Hermione Granger!" Dobby cried in a loud whisper. "What are you doing here?"

Draco watched Hermione step back in shock and raise her wand in warning.

"_Dobby?_ What are you doing with Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Dobby is following Harry Potter's orders. Dobby is keeping an eye on Tonks, who came to rescue Neville Longbottom. Hermione Granger, you have hexed Tonks, not Bellatrix Lestrange."

He gestured frantically at Bella. Draco had no idea what his former house-elf was babbling about, but apparently Hermione did. She sent a counterspell at Bellatrix, who sagged in relief, a very un-Bella-like gesture.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she said with a weak laugh. The voice didn't belong to Bellatrix, either, and Draco finally got it. Polyjuice Potion, no doubt. Granger flicked her wand at Draco and he could move again, thankfully. He glared at Bellatrix/Tonks and hurried over to make sure McNair was out of action.

"Isn't that Draco—" Tonks began, but Hermione cut her off. Draco yanked his hood back down with a curse. He hadn't planned to be recognized. By either side.

"I'll explain later," Hermione said. "We've got to get Neville out of here."

McNair was out cold. Hermione released the ropes that bound Longbottom to the chair. His face was swollen and bloody. His clothing was torn and showed red in some places. Hermione gripped him tightly as he sagged out of the chair. Tonks ran to help her. A crack announced the arrival of a newcomer and Draco leveled his wand at the sound. This time he did not hesitate. The binding curse flew toward the subject, but was deflected in a heartbeat.

"_You!_" Dobby hissed. He flew at Kreacher and they both disappeared with a loud bang. Draco swore.

"We're about to have company!" Sooner than expected, as it turned out. The basement door opened and a Death Eater rushed into view. Hermione was struggling to lift Neville. Tonks leveled a _Stupefy_ at the Death Eater—Nott, Draco noted. A crack sounded next to Neville's chair and a jet of light caught Hermione, who collapsed under Neville's weight. Draco retaliated with a stunning spell and wondered what Crabbe had used to take down Hermione. At the same time Tonks cast _Impedimenta_ at Nott's replacement on the stairs. She missed.

"Stop holding back!" Draco hissed and let fly with a gale force wind that slammed the Death Eater back up the stairs. He thought it was Lars. "Take Longbottom and get out of here!"

Draco hoisted Neville with one hand and flung him at Tonks, and then bent down and scooped up Hermione's limp form. He _Accioed_ her wand just as three more Death Eaters materialized.

"Thanks, cousin," Tonks called as she disappeared.

Draco _Disapparated_.

He sank to his knees in Hermione's bedroom, drenched with sweat. He could scarcely believe they had made it out alive. Maybe there was something to the vaunted Gryffindor luck. He still held Hermione and her head lolled back against his arm. He felt for a pulse. It was weak, but identifiable. He cast _Finite Incantatum_ to counter whatever spell had been used on her, but she didn't awaken. Draco set her on the floor and stood up. He was completely exhausted. What a bloody long day. The raid on the Lovegoods, the jaunt to and from Dover, the trip to Longbottoms, and finally the rescue. God knew how many times Granger had _Apparated_. Probably at least six more than the recommended daily maximum.

He pulled back the covers on her bed and then unfastened the cloak from around her neck. It fell away and he lifted her again. He set her on the bed and unlaced her trainers. He tossed them aside, followed by her socks. About to pull the covers over her, he hesitated, looking at her jeans. Draco hated sleeping in trousers—it was stifling and bloody uncomfortable. She'd thank him in the morning for removing them. He grinned. Well, probably not. She'd more likely hex him into oblivion, which decided him.

He levitated her slightly off the bed and unfastened her jeans. He slowly worked them down until they were loose enough to grab by the ankles and slide from her legs. The process was more difficult than it looked. He'd never undressed an unconscious woman, before. Now he knew how Crabbe and Goyle must feel. He chuckled at his wit, but his amusement was stifled as his eyes examined what he'd uncovered. Hermione had nice legs. His eyes roved slowly from her ankles up her slender limbs and he sucked in an amazed breath. Rather than the demure, sensible white panties he'd expected, she wore red silk knickers trimmed in lace. His brows raised sharply in wonder.

"Full of surprises, aren't we, Granger?" he murmured. He immediately abandoned the briefly entertained notion of removing her shirt. His thoughts were already treading down a dangerous path without adding fuel to the fire. He allowed himself one more approving gaze, knowing it would likely be the last time he'd see her in this state.

He released the spell, dropping her back to the bed, and quickly dragged the covers over her. He sighed, glad that task was done. He looked around, but saw no suitable place to sleep in her room. Malfoys never slept on the floor. He had no intention of sleeping without a warning system. He would have slept in another part of the house, but knew he didn't have enough energy to ward the entire house. There was no help for it. He reached under the blankets and roughly shoved Hermione to the far side of the bed. He tucked her wand under her pillow and then removed his clothing down to his silk boxers.

He cast a quick warding spell around the room and slid into the bed next to Granger, taking care that no part of her was touching him. If anyone approached this room, he'd be awakened instantly. He slid his wand under his pillow and in seconds was sound asleep.


	19. Chapter 19 Trains and Dust

**Chapter Nineteen – Trains and Dust**

Hermione awoke feeling deliciously warm and content. She dreamed that someone was curled next to her, cradling her in sensual heat. One muscular arm was thrown across her waist and her hand rested gently atop his. She sighed, believing she could almost feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back and the soft whisper of his breath upon her hair.

Her eyes snapped open. It was no dream!

She instantly recognized the wallpaper that she'd viewed thousands of times and was somewhat relieved to find herself in her own bed, but it was difficult to accept that she wasn't alone. A horrifying suspicion crept over her and she ever so carefully tried to move herself away from the man holding her so intimately. His arm slid across her waist centimeter by centimeter and she began to hope she could free herself without awakening him. Then she was halted by her hair. Bloody hell, he was laying on it!

Her movement must have stirred him, for he thankfully rolled over and she was free. She sat up and scooted away before turning to view her bed partner. Draco Malfoy. She was both relieved and mortified. What the hell was he doing in her bed? And where were her jeans? Was she under an _Imperius Curse_ the night before? Her last memory was of trying to stand under Neville's dead weight, and then Death Eaters _Apparating_…

She looked at Draco's platinum hair tousled across her pillow and nearly rubbed her eyes at the incongruity of the image. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined _him_ in her bed!

She quietly scrambled to the foot and climbed off the bed, praying he didn't awaken. Hermione glanced at him as she grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. She shrugged it on and wondered again what had happened the previous night. Almost, she woke Malfoy to ask him, but she was utterly unwilling to face his penetrating silver eyes and knowing smirk at the moment.

She needed to contact Tonks. Where was her wand? She checked around the bed and thankfully spotted the tip poking out from under her vacated pillow. Damn. She carefully reached across Draco to grasp the wand. She straightened and stepped back. Unwillingly, she looked at him. The blankets were bunched around his waist, leaving his upper torso bare. She noticed the hair on his chest was so pale it was nearly invisible. His skin really was flawless and she remembered the satisfying feel of his body pressed against hers…

She quickly yanked some clothing out of her drawers and fled. She ran downstairs, feeling as though she'd entered an alternate dimension. Everything seemed strange and disorienting. She had only spent one day in Draco's constant presence and her emotions had gone from one extreme to the other where he was concerned. She had gotten used to him as a source of steady and unchanging irritation. Now, she couldn't predict what he would do from one moment to the next. What had possessed him to go after Neville, after his determined speech vowing to do the opposite?

A flutter across the lounge caught her eye and she saw Hedwig land in the open window. Goodness, she had never replied to Harry! She felt instantly guilty.

"Wait awhile longer, Hedwig," she said. She cast the first part of the _Patronus_ spell and crafted a message to Tonks. She hoped they had made it out of Malfoy Manor in one piece.

_How is Neville? Where are you? Is there any news? I'm fine, by the way, and safe for the moment._

She finished the spell and retreated to the kitchen to put on a kettle of water. She prepared a strong cup of tea and waited for a reply. Thankfully, it didn't take long.

_We're at St. Mungos. Neville is still unconscious, as is Augusta. I'm fine, except that Remus is not speaking to me. I didn't mention your friend in my report._

St. Mungos. Thank God. Tonks and Neville had gotten out. And Malfoy had pulled her out. She jotted a quick message to Harry and sent Hedwig away. She took a hot shower, dressed, and returned to the kitchen to start breakfast, welcoming the chore to take her mind off the person sleeping in her bed. It worked nicely until that person walked into the kitchen wearing only his black trousers and looking like a disheveled Greek god. She felt her pulse skyrocket and knew it was going to be a long day.

Draco woke the instant Hermione stirred. He was astonished to find himself snugly wrapped around her and wasn't certain how to gracefully untangle himself. He heard her sigh softly and was thankful she was still asleep. Her legs were pressed against the length of his and her silk-clad buttocks rested firmly in his lap, a fact he became cognizant of with a jolt. His face was nestled in her hair and he recognized the scent, suddenly. She smelled like apples. He was surprised at how perfectly she fit into the curve of his body; as if she'd been made for that purpose. Unable to move without waking her, he relaxed and enjoyed the feel of her snuggled against him, figuring he might as well bask in the calm before the storm.

He knew the exact instant her eyes opened. In less than a heartbeat, she was taut as a bow string. He was amused at her distress as he imagined the thoughts spinning through her mind. The amusement lasted only until she started to move. The minute caress of her satiny skin set his nerve endings on fire. He realized his body didn't care that she was Muggle-born. It only knew she was female, soft, warm, and in precisely the right position. It was too much to bear. Before she noticed the increased pace of his heart rate and the stirring of another part of his anatomy, he stretched and rolled away from her, feigning sleep.

She scampered off the bed like a frightened kitten. He watched through his lashes as she snatched on her dressing gown and then leaned across him to retrieve her wand. He almost smiled at the effort he put into not touching him. He closed his eyes while she snatched up clothing and departed.

When she was gone, he rolled onto his back and propped his hands behind his head. "I slept with Hermione Granger," he mused. Two days ago, the thought would have horrified him. Now it was troubling, but definitely not horrifying. Potter and Weasley would blow their tops—not that Granger would ever divulge that tidbit of knowledge to them. But, Draco would. In fact, he marveled that he hadn't thought of it before. It would be excellent revenge on Potter. She would be putty in Draco's hands, if he put his mind to it. He wondered if Potter or the Weasel had ever seen her in the state of undress Draco had… Probably not. The idiots didn't seem to notice what was right under their noses.

He heard her moving about downstairs, and then water running. He dozed until he smelled food cooking and figured it was time to rise. He slid out of bed and tugged his trousers on, wishing he'd thought to grab some clothing from his room the night before.

He wandered into the kitchen to see the table laden with an enormous amount of food. Hermione stared at him for a long moment, looking wary and nervous. He smiled carefully, allowing no hint of a smirk to cross his features, for once.

"Are we entertaining the Ministry of Magic this morning? Or a Muggle army?" he asked. She seemed to shake herself.

"I… thought you might be hungry," she said lamely.

"I am," he admitted. He sat down at the table and helped himself to bacon, sausages, scones with jam, eggs and potatoes, fruit with clotted cream, and plenty of hot tea. She nibbled and watched him carefully while he ate with gusto. He knew there were questions she wanted to ask him, but she made no comment. Likely because the answers were all obvious. Yes, he had _Apparated_ them here. Yes, he had undressed her. Yes, he had climbed into bed with her. Yes, he had wrapped himself around her as they slept. Yes, he would do it again, and yes, he was thinking about carrying her upstairs right now and finishing what he could have started this morning… He coughed and took a large gulp of tea.

"You made all of this without magic?" he asked, dragging his mind to a safer subject. She nodded and he was impressed in spite of himself. If he had to live without magic for a week, he'd likely starve to death. When he was finished, he sat back with a satisfied sigh.

"Well, Granger, what's the plan for today? Any more of your minions need rescuing?"

She scowled. "They're not minions. We call them _friends_. As would you, if you had any."

"From what I've seen, friends are rather a headache. They seem to get into quite a lot of trouble."

She actually laughed. "So they do. But they tend to be worth it, in the long run. If you're done eating, I'll introduce you to a fabulous Muggle invention."

"Red silk knickers?" he asked hopefully.

She blushed scarlet and seemed unable to find words for a moment.

"No," she choked finally. "It's called a shower."

He chuckled and followed her upstairs. On the way, he caught another whiff of apple and reflected dryly that it would have been better if she smelled like coconut or strawberry, or some other scent he hated. It would have to be apple; his favorite.

In the bathroom, she turned on the water for him, showed him the controls, and pulled the curtain around the tub. She pointed out the towels and turned to leave. She halted in the doorway and looked at him seriously.

"Thank you for saving Neville," she whispered. "And me. You were brilliant."

She hurried out, leaving him bemused and strangely pleased. He tried to recall if anyone had ever before called him brilliant.

He had to admit, she was right about the shower. He'd have to mention it to his father if they managed to stop the Dark Lord from destroying everything on the planet. When he exited the bath, he spent some time in front of the mirror transfiguring his clothes—a chore he hated because it was difficult to get the fit exactly right. Although, he reflected, Hermione hadn't had any trouble when she'd been changing his outfits in Dover…

He turned his black shirt grey, but left it silk, since it was easier to leave the base material as it was. The trousers he left alone. He pulled his boots on and went back downstairs to find her pouring over a book. He nodded approvingly. That was the Granger he was used to seeing.

"I thought we could go to the Riddle house, as we had planned yesterday," she said. "I made some calls while you were in the shower and the simplest way to get to Little Hangleton is by train. We could _Apparate_ blind, but I hate doing that in daylight. Too much chance of being spotted by Muggles, and we definitely don't need Ministry involvement when we're looking for Horcruxes. If we _Apparate_ to King's Cross Station in London, we'll be able to catch the northbound Muggle train that leaves in twenty minutes."

She was all business again, which was something of a relief. It would be easier to concentrate on their objective if she behaved like a human reference book.

The trip to Great Hangleton went as planned. The Muggle train ride was similar to every other train ride Draco had ever had, except the food and drink on the trolley was quite different. Hermione bought him a beverage called Coca Cola that could easily have become Draco's favorite drink. It was sweet and bubbly and excellent. It disturbed him slightly to have discovered two worthy Muggle inventions in one day.

Hermione had transfigured his trousers into black jeans and his Death Eater robes/trench coat into a cream-colored jacket with a handy wand pocket. She wore darker blue jeans than the previous day and a button-up blouse of emerald green. It was an excellent color on her, although he tried not to notice that. She had partially covered the blouse with a white cardigan—also for wand storage, most likely, as it was shaping up to be a pleasantly warm day.

They walked from Great Hangleton to Little Hangleton, pretending to be tourists. Hermione had slung a camera around her neck to add to the disguise, in case locals happened to ask questions. The Riddle house was in a sorry state of disrepair. The plants were overgrown all around it and the roof looked to be collapsing on one corner. Several windows were broken and it had likely become a refuge for local hoodlums.

"Should we try the back door?" she asked, eyeing the place apprehensively.

"You tell me," Draco said flippantly. "You Gryffindors are the experts at sneaking around and poking their noses where they don't belong."

"We are not!"

He looked at her pointedly. She ignored him and followed the overgrown path around the side of the house, pushing brambles and weeds aside as she went. The back door appeared locked, but a quick _Alohomora_ fixed that. The door gaped opened with a rusty creak. Hermione looked at him somewhat nervously.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"After you," he said brightly. Frankly, after raiding Voldemort's headquarters to rescue a captured Gryffindor, he thought Horcrux hunting was a positive lark.

They walked from room to room in the dark, dust-covered, rickety house. The roof had leaked in several places, rotting floorboards and making their footing treacherous.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Draco asked, nudging aside the broken remains of a table. The house had apparently been stripped of everything valuable, but several broken or worthless items remained.

"I don't know. If Voldemort hid a Horcrux here, we need to think like him in order to determine where he might have put it."

"No problem. Think like a raving, psychotic, megalomaniac freak that recently returned from the dead."

"Aside from the 'recently returned from the dead' portion, you should have no difficulty," she said.

He aimed a light stinging hex at her buttocks. She yelped and then laughed.

"All right, I suppose you're not quite _raving_."

He raised his wand threateningly and she snatched the end of it to wrench it out of his hand. He didn't let go and they had a playful tug-of-war that ended when he yanked the wand sharply, throwing her against him. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and squeezed.

"Stop tormenting me," he warned, looking down into her upturned face. She had a smudge of dirt across one cheek and her hair was hopelessly tangled. She laughed and pressed the tip of her wand under his chin.

"I have six years of torment to make up for," she said and tapped gently.

"I thought it was against the Gryffindor credo to hold a grudge," he admonished.

"It's my grudge and I shall hold it as long as I like."

He grinned and squeezed her again. She gasped.

"You look like a ragamuffin," he commented. It was true. A damnably attractive ragamuffin with her head thrown back and her eyes sparkling like that. He thought about kissing her.

"I won't even tell you what you look like," she said dryly. "Now, let me go. We're here for a reason, remember?"

"You started it," he breathed and began to lower his mouth to hers. They both froze at a crashing sound on the floor below. He released her with reluctance. She turned quickly and headed down to investigate the sound. He cursed softly and followed.

"Damned Gryffindor luck," he muttered.


	20. Chapter 20 Horcrux

**Chapter Twenty - Horcrux**

Harry stood at the top of Astronomy Tower and looked out over the Hogwarts landscape. Dawn was just tinting the sky. They had gone to bed quite late, but Harry had found himself unable to sleep for worry, so he rose early and went for a walk. He supposed he should go down and utilize the Pensieve, since he seemed unable to do anything else useful. He sighed as he recalled the last time he stood on this tower. It was such a short time ago, yet it seemed like forever. His arms rested on the very spot where Dumbledore had gone over the edge. Harry put his head in his hands. He had been right about Snape from the beginning. Now it had come to this. Helplessly waiting to come of age, sitting idly by while his friends were attacked. He had never felt more helpless in this senseless war that had begun before he was born, and yet seemed to hinge entirely on him.

He had always thought that when the time came, Dumbledore would tell him what to do—would stand beside Harry and guide him with the knowledge of how to defeat Voldemort. Now Harry had to face the grim reality that not only would Dumbledore not be standing beside him, but also the possibility that Dumbledore hadn't known how to defeat Voldemort at all.

Maybe it had always been up to Harry. He looked out over the grounds, calm and lovely on this beautiful summer morning. It was difficult to believe a threat loomed on the horizon. He turned to leave when Dobby _Apparated_ beside him. This time, Harry didn't even jump.

"Harry Potter, sir! Mistress Tonks has rescued Neville Longbottom! He is at the wizard hospital."

Harry was flabbergasted. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. I was with Mistress Tonks, as Harry Potter requested. Hermione Granger was there before us!"

"What? _Hermione_ was there?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby does not know how she got there or why she was with very bad wizard—"

"How _could_ she?" Harry burst out. "It's one thing to go without us, but to not even send word?"

Dobby nodded. "And then Kreacher came."

"Kreacher? Where did all this happen?"

"At the home of Dobby's former wicked master."

"Malfoys," Harry breathed.

"Yes, Harry Potter."

"That's why Lupin wouldn't tell me. Not that it would have done any good, since I don't know where Malfoy Manor is." He scowled. "But, how did Hermione know to go there? Did Tonks fetch her?"

"No, Harry Potter. Hermione Granger was there with—"

"Hedwig!" Harry's owl landed on his arm and hooted softly. "Finally! Maybe now I'll get some answers."

Dobby sighed.

"Sometimes Harry Potter just doesn't listen to Dobby."

Harry tugged the message from Hedwig's leg and opened it.

_H – You've probably heard about last night's adventure by now. I'll tell you more in detail when I see you. I am well and I have a lead on one of the objects we discussed. I will check it out today and join you this afternoon. H_

Harry scowled and stalked back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Look at this!" Harry snapped once Ron finished grumbling about a fellow not being able to get any bloody sleep with Harry around.

Ron read the message twice.

"So she's off having fun without us? And no mention at all of Mr. Tall, Blond, and Sterling Good Looks. What the hell?"

"It's _Malfoy_," Harry snarled.

"What?"

"Who else could it be? Death Eater, our age, bloody handsome. Doesn't bear a single mention from Hermione, with good reason! _He's_ Devlin Whitehorn. Even that! A Quidditch reference! Who else would think to use that name?"

"What could he want with her? Why would he send her a message about her parents? Why warn her?"

"It's a trick. But she's not stupid enough to fall for any of his lies."

Ron nodded. "She hates him as much as we do. Maybe more. Well, probably not as much as me. But a lot."

Harry agreed, but it worried him.

"She's going to look for a Horcrux. Damn it, I told her how hard it was for me and Dumbledore to get the locket. She'd better not be going alone."

"Well, if she's going with Malfoy, maybe _he'll_ get poisoned this time."

The thought cheered Harry immediately.

"You're right! Maybe she's using him like a mine canary."

"Like a what?"

"A mine canary. Muggles dig deep holes in the ground to mine for precious stones. To see if the air is deadly, they lower down a caged canary. If it comes up dead, they know the air isn't safe to breathe."

"Malfoy. A mine canary," Ron breathed. "It's bloody brilliant."

Harry grinned. "Yeah."

With the happy thought of Malfoy's imminent demise to cheer them, they went down to breakfast.

Hermione bolted down the stairs like a true Gryffindor, wand out and completely heedless of danger. Draco would have crept down cautiously, but supposed leaping into the fray had the advantage of surprising the enemy with sheer disbelief at the stupidity, if nothing else.

The crash had come from an area directly below where they had been standing, by which he deduced it was the former dining room. The only furniture left in the room was a broken sideboard, but Draco's attention was immediately drawn to the huge fireplace on the outer wall. The windows in the room had been boarded up, so it was quite dark. Hermione had lit her wand and now she brightened it to illuminate the creature that stood where the fireplace grate should have been.

"Fawkes?" Hermione asked in disbelief. The phoenix flapped its golden wings and cocked its head at her.

"Isn't that—?"

She nodded. "Dumbledore's phoenix. I think it's trying to help us." Draco scoffed. Surely a stupid bird wouldn't be able to do anything for them. Hermione shot him a look to let him know she wouldn't appreciate his opinion. It was odd that the bird was here, he had to admit.

She went to the fireplace and murmured at the bird. Draco walked around the room cautiously.

"What's the significance of this place, anyway?" he asked. "I mean, I know who Tom Riddle was—my father told me that much, at least."

"This is the room where Voldemort killed his father," Hermione said. "Grandparents, too, apparently." Draco stopped walking with a grimace. Morbid thought, to know he might be standing where a dead body had lain. He edged over to the fireplace.

"Dumbledore said Voldemort made Horcruxes with items that were important to him—relics from the four Houses, his own diary, and things from his past. He also hid these objects in places that had meaning for him. Dumbledore found the ring in the former home of Voldemort's mother. It was there not because he valued _her_, but because the connection to Salazar Slytherin was important to him."

She was back to sounding like a history book, but she still had that smudge across her cheek…

"This place would be significant because it's where he—in his twisted mind—triumphed over his Muggle father. You do know Voldemort is a half-blood, right?"

Draco made a face. "Yes, we're forbidden to bring it up on pain of death. Most of the Death Eaters don't know, but my father spent a long time researching the Dark Lord's past. It pays to know who you're working for."

"Or against."

"Exactly."

The phoenix fluttered its wings again and Hermione nodded.

"Yes, Fawkes, I know the fireplace is important. I have an idea." She raised her wand. "This spell is useless in the wizarding world, since nearly everything is magical or has been touched by it, but it should serve us here. It detects traces of magic."

"_Compera Navita_."

The fireplace glowed brightly with a reddish light.

"As expected." Hermione walked to the center of the room, where a faint trace of green glowed.

"This is old magic," she said. "This is likely the spot where the Riddles were killed." She went back to the fireplace. "This is more recent, and still active. It must be a portal, but to where?"

"And how do we open it?"

"_Pateo_," said Hermione and suddenly the floor of the fireplace dropped away, revealing a dark passage leading down. Fawkes flapped his wings and hopped into the room. "What do you know? Open. Sometimes the simplest ways are the best."

"Sometimes the simplest ways are traps. That was far too easy."

"I agree. He's luring us down there, where the real fun begins." She sighed and looked at Draco expectantly. "Shall we?"

"Hell no! Will you stop thinking like a Gryffindor for a minute?"

"I _am_ a Gryffindor."

"Well, I'm not. The Dark Lord obviously set this trap for barmy people like you that barge in the front door to face the danger head-on." He walked toward the doorway leading to the kitchen. "Come on. Slytherins don't use the front door, especially when they are wide open with a welcome sign hanging on the post."

"Where are you going?"

"I thought you were the intelligent one. Where do you suppose that portal leads?"

She followed him to the kitchen, where he stopped before a blank wall.

"Okay, cast your magic perception spell here."  
She looked at him in puzzlement, but did so. To his satisfaction, the wall glowed with a purple light. Draco chuckled.

"As I suspected. This house has a basement. Voldemort removed the door." Draco cast a vanishing spell and several boards disappeared to reveal a gaping passageway. Another purple glow met their eyes from below. "Damn. He also took out the stairs."

"It looks like he planned for sneaky Slytherins, too," Hermione said dryly.

"Bastard. I still say this is better that using the fireplace."

"I actually agree with you. However, there might be a better way."

She went back to the dining room. "Now, the basement likely encompasses the same area as the rest of the house. For certain, there is open space beneath this room."

"So, we should break up the floor and drop down," he suggested.  
Draco lifted his wand, but she put out a hand to stop him.

"No! He would have thought of that. What would he do to prevent it?" She snapped her fingers. "A booby trap. But what kind? We need to get a look under there."

She bent down and touched her wand to one of the hardwood floorboards. In moments, she had transfigured it into glass. Draco reluctantly admired her cleverness.

"Very nice. Now we have an excellent view of the darkness down there."

She threw him a look and searched the floor until she found a small knothole. She poked her wand tip into it and cast another spell. Instantly, light shot from every crack in the floorboards, illuminating the room with golden rays.

Draco peered through the glass floorboard and whistled. It allowed him a limited view of the area directly below the fireplace. He could see a wall of knives hovering in the air, awaiting the first person to use the fireplace portal. Hermione joined him.

"Crude, but likely only a small taste of what is down there," she said. "Let's see what else awaits us." She went back to the knothole and cast _Compera Navita_ once more. The white light from below was joined by several multicolored glows.

Draco couldn't make out many details, but Hermione tapped the glass board lightly.

"This is what I was afraid of. It makes our job quite a lot harder."

Directly beneath the glass was a glowing web of yellow lines.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's like a Muggle alarm system. If we crack a board, it will break one of these lines and trigger the spell. I'm not sure what will happen, but you can bet it will be bad."

Draco sighed.

"Any other bright ideas?"

She grinned at him. "I'm not finished, yet."

Hermione turned the glass board back into wood and then carefully walked around the dining room turning various pieces of wood into glass and back again. She didn't dare turn the whole floor at once—it would never hold the weight of the house above. At last she halted, directly in the center of the dim green glow.

"I should have checked here first," she said soberly. Draco walked over to see. Beneath the glass board, he could see a small table draped with green velvet, upon which rested a golden cup. "Hufflepuff's cup," she murmured.

"That's a Horcrux?"

Hermione nodded. "Now that we've found it, we have to figure out how to get it out of there."

Draco thought about it for a moment. "Turn this board back into wood."

She didn't question him. When it was oak once more, Draco used his wand to vanish the nails holding it to the floor. Then he carefully levitated the board and set it down nearby. With the board missing, they could clearly see the webwork of magic that lined the ceiling of the basement. The largest gap between them was about ten centimeters. The cup itself radiated an orange glow, but the area around it was clear.

"_Accio_?" Draco asked Hermione. She shook her head.

"I doubt it will work, but feel free to try it." He did, but the cup didn't move.

"I have an idea. Since Voldemort hates all things Muggle, I doubt something this simple would have occurred to him. Wait here."

She got up and ran out of the room. Before Draco had time to get bored, she was back with a long stick from the garden and a length of rope.

"This used to be a garden rake. It needs a bit of modification, but I think it will work."

She was busy with her wand for the next few minutes, lengthening the stick and attaching the rope to it by various means.

"Voila. Just like a snake-catching stick. Rather fitting, I'd say. Be ready for anything," she mentioned.

She tucked her wand into her back pocket and gently inserted the stick, now with a loop in the end, between two of the glowing yellow lines, being extremely careful not to touch them. Then she lowered the stick, bit by bit, down to the golden cup. Draco felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead.

"Now for the hard part," she whispered.

Ever so carefully, she twisted the stick to maneuver the loop over the lip of the cup. The difficult part was keeping the stick itself from touching the warding lines. Or the cup. It seemed to take a dozen tries, but finally the loop dropped down over the lip. She let out a shaky breath in relief.

"All right, I'll hold it here. You tug the end of the rope to tighten it."

Draco pulled the rope by gentle degrees and watched as the loop grew taut about the cup.

"Okay," Hermione breathed and took a better grip. "Here we go."

She lifted the stick and they forgot to breathe as the cup rose, tipped, and swung freely in the air. They froze for the space of six heartbeats and then she started to pull the cup upward. Draco was amazed and started to think they might actually get out of the place unscathed. The cup drew closer and closer.

"Uh oh," Hermione said.

"What?"

"The cup won't fit through the gridlines."

They both examined the problem while the cup hovered below them. It was maybe a centimeter too long. The stick shook slightly and Draco knew Hermione had to be getting tired from the strain of holding it steady.

"Do you think we can _Disapparate_?"

"No. Not with it still down there. We will go and it will drop."

He sighed. "Wait here for just a bit."

He sprang to his feet and hurried to the nearest boarded up window and began to _Vanish_ the boards. Soon the window opening was bare. He placed his wand in a pocket and returned to Hermione.

"All right. Give me that thing."

"What do you mean to do?"

He put his hands next to hers and held the stick. Her exhaustion was evident when she gratefully let go.

"Okay, now go outside," he ordered.

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Why? Because you don't trust me, or you don't want me to get hurt?"

"Both," she snapped.

"Fine! Then at least go and stand by the window. And get that stupid bird out of here."

"Fawkes, you'd better go."

The phoenix lifted off and sailed out the window gracefully. Hermione hadn't moved.

"Stubborn little—"

"Don't even say it."

"On three, then," Draco said. "One. Two. _Three!_" At the last word, he yanked the stick holding the Horcrux and flung himself toward the window. He felt hands grip his jacket and then he was tugged through the air at the same time a dreadful cracking, splintering noise filled his ears. His shin caught the window frame as he sailed through. He landed on his back in a bramble bush with a painful crash.

As he watched, the Riddle house broke apart and crashed in upon itself with a roar of shattered timber. A massive cloud of dust and debris billowed into the air. He shut his eyes as the cloud sprayed over him like a fine mist. Small bits of wood and plaster rained down on him. He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, who lay next to him looking like a dusty ghost. A fine layer of dirt covered her completely and there were small pieces of debris caught in her curls.

"Brilliant of you to wear a white jumper," he commented.

"Did we get it?" she asked, ignoring him.

The stick was still gripped in Draco's hands. He lifted it and a glint of gold met his eyes as the cup flashed in the sunlight. Hermione cried out happily and threw her arms around him.

"I don't believe it! We actually did it!"

He laughed. "That was sheer madness. You pulled us out, didn't you?"

She sat back and flicked her wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa_. Simple." She got to her feet and gave him a hand. They both looked at the cup dangling from the rope. Taking a breath, Draco reached out and grasped it. It felt cold to the touch, but otherwise seemed to be only a simple chalice. He sighed in relief, released the rope, and threw the stick aside.

"We'd better go," Hermione warned. "That crash will draw Muggle attention."

Draco nodded. She stepped close to him and reached up to touch his hair. She giggled.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Draco Malfoy was less than immaculate."

"And you've progressed from ragamuffin to dirty vagrant," he retorted with a grin.

"You'll be punished for that one," she warned.

"How to you propose to do that?"

"Like this." She leaned into him, wrapped one arm around his neck and smiled up at him. "You see, we're going to Hogwarts."

Before he could register the thought, they _Disapparated_.


	21. Chapter 21 Speculation

**Chapter Twenty One - Speculation**

They _Apparated_ into Hogsmeade close to the Shrieking Shack where Harry had once pelted Draco with snowballs from the safety of his Invisibility Cloak. Draco wondered if she had chosen the spot merely for the bad memory.

He stepped out of her grasp immediately.

"Absolutely not. I am not going up there."

"Why not? You've certainly proven yourself. If _I_ no longer want to kill you, everyone else should have no problem accepting you."

"Everyone else? I doubt that. Your friend Potter has despised me since the first moment we met."

"Well… Harry's a special case. But, he's not unreasonable. I'll talk to him. He'll be fine," she said placatingly.

"You're quite a wretched liar," he said. She flushed.

"You have to do this sooner or later. We can't keep hiding out together forever."

"Why not? I'm starting to like it," he said snidely, twisting the words into a lie. Her eyes flashed.

"Well, I'm not. The Death Eaters could return at any time. My parents' house is simply not safe, and now we have to dispose of _that_." She gestured at the cup still clasped in Draco's hand. "Since we have no idea how to accomplish it, we need Harry's help."

Draco sneered. "Yes, I'm quite sure The Chosen One will have no problem figuring that out."

"You are not helping your cause with that attitude!"

"I don't have a cause!"

"You most certainly do. After the past three days you can't even pretend you don't care. You do not want Voldemort to win any more than we do or you wouldn't have taken so many chances."

She stepped close to him and gripped his jacket in a fist as if to hold him in place. Her voice was soft and heartfelt.

"Look, Malfoy, you came to me and I know it had to be bloody hard for you. Maybe the hardest thing you've ever done. Can you look at me now and tell me you regret making that choice?"

He looked into her sincere brown eyes and her dirty face and tangled hair and tried to remember how he used to feel about her. The horrible little Know-It-All that had treated him like the lowest vermin was gone, replaced by this maddening, earnest, hopeful girl who looked at him with undeserved faith.

"You're completely mad," he whispered.

"We're not talking about me."

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you have complete confidence in me. I'm not worth your trust."

"You're quite an excellent liar," she said dryly. "But, I can make my own decisions. Now, are you coming willingly, or shall I hex you and drag you there unconscious?"

The steel in her voice warned him that she was serious. He made one last effort to dissuade her.

"Can we at least return to Caerphilly and have one last shower?"

She laughed in surprise. "No. If you're concerned about being dirty, I can fix that." She tapped him with her wand and he felt the dust strip away from his flesh and hair.

"Ouch!"

"Infant. Here, I'll do it, too." She cast the spell on herself and an unseen force seemed to envelop her. The dirt disappeared and her hair crackled with cleanliness. Her jumper was sparkling white again. Draco was almost sorry to see the smudge on her cheek go.

"You're right. That does sting."

He set his jaw, but refrained from comment. "What do you plan to do with this?" He held up the golden cup and examined it. The engraved badger was as ugly as all the Hufflepuff crests he had ever seen. "Wretched, hideous thing. No wonder the Dark Lord hid it in a broken down shack. A badger. What a grotesque creature."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, snakes are ever so much more pleasant and cuddly."

"I'm glad you recognize that."

She conjured a leather pouch and held it open for Draco to tuck the cup inside. She slung the strap over her shoulder.

"By the way, no one knows anything about Horcruxes except you, me, Harry and Ron. We'd like to keep it that way."

Draco's brow raised and he tsked disapprovingly.

"Keeping secrets from the Order? How very un-Gryffindor-like."

"Hush. Now come along. No more stalling." She took his arm and towed him toward the path that led to the school.

"You can let go of me, you know."

"No, I can't. I don't have the time to track you down if you disappear."

He was surprised. "You would come after me?"

"Someone has to save you from yourself."

He scowled. That wasn't at all the answer he'd expected.

They walked until the Hogwarts' gates came into view and then Hermione cast a _Patronus_. Draco watched the silver otter streak toward Hogwarts. Her _Patronus_ was interesting. He wasn't as surprised by it as he would have been a few days ago. He now knew a mischievous, playful person was hidden under all that bossy, overbearing intelligence.

When they reached the gates, they waited.

"What is your _Patronus_?" she asked curiously. Draco flushed. He hated his _Patronus_, which was why he seldom cast the spell. It was terribly embarrassing and there were other ways to deal with dementors.

"Never mind."

"Why? Is it something horrible? Like a ferret?"

He glared at her. "Very funny. No. It is _not_ a ferret."

"Well, I thought you made a very cute ferret. I wanted to put you in a cage and take you to my room and feed you ferret treats."

He groaned. "Oh, that would have been pleasant."

She smiled broadly. Professor McGonagall was approaching. Draco drew back, but Hermione's grip on his arm tightened.

"You'll be fine," she murmured.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said in surprise, gaping at Draco through the bars of the gate. She made no move to open it. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Malfoy has decided to join us in the war against Voldemort, Professor," she stated briskly. "We already owe him a great debt." Draco shut his eyes in a give-me-strength attitude at her words. Surely she could have done better than that?

"This is never going to work," he murmured to Hermione. She kicked his ankle slightly and he winced. McGonagall's sharp gaze narrowed at the exchange.

"What are you talking about? Are you under an _Imperius Curse_?"

The question seemed to strike Hermione as funny. She giggled and looked at Draco playfully.

"Am I? Can you even cast an _Imperius Curse_?"

"Of course I can," he said hotly. "What kind of minion of the Dark Lord would I be if I couldn't cast a simple Unforgivable?"

"Well, you never really _were_ a minion of the Dark Lord, or you wouldn't be here right now, would you?"

"A minor detail."

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall burst out, snapping them out of their conversation.

"Sorry, Professor. You need to know that Draco was responsible for the rescue of Neville Longbottom last night. He also warned us of the attack on Luna Lovegood and my parents, in time to save them both."

"You can prove this, of course?" McGonagall said dryly.

"Tonks can vouch for him," Hermione said confidently.

"_Tonks?_"

"Feel free to ask her. We'll wait."

McGonagall seemed to be having a difficult time processing Hermione's words, but the sight of Hermione clinging to Draco's arm apparently decided her. She cast a _Patronus_ that sped southward.

"Is there any news of Neville?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"He is awake and should recover. He was given the _Cruciatus Curse_ repeatedly, but hopefully not enough to do permanent damage." She glared at Draco. Guilty by association, he supposed.

"So, what possessed you to change sides, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked as though she thought it more likely that the sun would suddenly turn into a pink parasol. Draco shrugged.

"I was bored. All that torturing, killing, and groveling before the Dark Lord got old fairly quickly."

Hermione elbowed him and gave him one of her patented looks of annoyance.

"Can you be serious?"

"No. And frankly, I'd rather not be here at all. McGonagall doesn't want to let me in, I do not want to go in, so how about you just let me _Disapparate_ and we will all be satisfied?"

"Absolutely not," she said adamantly. Draco wanted to beat his head against the bars in frustration.

Tonks did better than send a reply. She _Apparated_. Her pink hair looked brilliant in the sunlight. She grinned at them brightly.

"Wotcher, Hermione. Cousin Draco," she said.

"Nymphadora," McGonagall said and Draco saw her wince at the name. "Is it true that Draco Malfoy assisted in the rescue of Neville Longbottom?"

Tonks nodded happily. "Yeah. He was brilliant. You should have seen him after Hermione was knocked out. Fought like a lion. Nice to see _someone_ in the family has found some sense."

Draco looked smugly at McGonagall and raised a single brow. Her expression didn't change.

"Very well, Miss Granger. I shall hold you responsible for his behavior."

Draco looked at Hermione as if pleased at the thought. She gave him a warning stare. McGonagall tapped the lock and it clicked open. The chain slithered through the bars and she pushed one gate open for them to enter. Draco felt suddenly claustrophobic. There was no easy way out of Hogwarts; he wanted to bolt for freedom. Only Hermione's steadying presence and her unrelenting grip on his arm kept him from doing so. She pulled him through the gate.

The walk to the school felt like a march to the gallows. Hermione had the role of serene cleric, secure in the belief that Draco was going to a better place. McGonagall was like the judgmental victim, stoically waiting to see justice done. And Tonks was a curious bystander—unconcerned, but happy to watch events unfold. She babbled to McGonagall the entire way, mostly about trivial happenings at the Ministry.

They entered the Entrance Hall and Hermione finally released Draco. Tonks and McGonagall threw them a curious look, but ascended the staircase and left them alone.

"I'm going to find Harry. Do you want to go to the Slytherin common room and settle in?"

"No, I don't think so. I'll go with you."

She looked concerned.

"That might not be the best idea. I should talk to them, first."

"I refuse to hide behind your skirts," he said coldly.

"I'm not wearing a skirt."

"Lead on, Granger. Let's see if your precious Potter is as understanding as you think he is."

"Must you always be so difficult?"

"Is there another way?"

She threw her hands up. "Fine. Do everything the hard way." She looked at him critically. "I like the trench coat, but it doesn't look right here at Hogwarts." Without asking permission, she transfigured his coat back into a black cloak, though not the Death Eater robes they had been originally. She turned her white jumper into a short cape of Gryffindor red.

It took them a surprisingly long time to find Potter and the Weasel. First they walked up to the seventh floor to find the Gryffindor opening barred because Hermione did not know the password. The ugly portrait informed her that no one was within.

They went next to the library, against Draco's advice that Potter and Weasley wouldn't be caught dead in a library unless Hermione dragged them there. He gave her a satisfied smirk when his prediction was validated.

"Try the kitchen," Draco suggested. "Weasley seems to be inordinately fond of stuffing himself when the food is free."

Hermione's face went red and she turned on him. "We've been here less than a half hour and I'm already not liking you again!"

He grinned laconically. "Your lying hasn't improved."

"Oh, shut up!"

They were descending the central staircase when Harry and Ron exited the Great Hall. Hermione spotted them first.

"Harry!" she cried. She leaped down the last few stairs and flung herself at Potter's neck. Draco watched Potter's arms go around her and he felt his jaw clench slightly.

She released Harry and pounced on Weasley, who held her far too tightly and far too long. Potter caught sight of Draco, who hadn't moved from his position on the steps. Harry's wand was out and leveled in a heartbeat. Draco wondered if The Chosen One stood in front of the mirror and practiced wand brandishing. Draco left his own wand tucked into his cloak, knowing Mr. Gryffindor Nobility wouldn't dare hex him while he was unarmed.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Weasley yelled. He had not removed his arm from around Hermione's neck. Rather possessive gesture, Draco thought. To her credit, she shook off Weasley and hurried back up to stand next to Draco.

"Put your wand away, Harry," she ordered. "Malfoy will be working with us from now on."

"Fat chance!" Harry snapped, drowning whatever nasty comment had spilled from Weasley's lips.

"I'll give you the details later, but without his help, Luna would be lost, Neville would still be a prisoner and we would not have _this_." She opened her pouch and held up Hufflepuff's cup.

"Is that—?"

"A Horcrux, yes."

"You _told_ him?" Harry yelled. Draco reflected that her friends certainly bellowed a lot when they were upset. It must be a Gryffindor trait. Slytherins tended to go the opposite way and retreat into enraged hissing, baleful glares, and hateful get-even pranks. The Gryffindor way was louder, but quicker.

"He already knew!" Hermione shouted back, getting into the spirit.

"I'll bet he did! He's probably been sent to take them from us once we recover them!" Harry snarled.

"That's ridiculous." She dropped the cup back into the pouch and continued matter-of-factly, "Now, we all need to set aside our differences and work on the problem at hand, which is the destruction of this cup and the location of the other items."

"Set aside our differences?" Ron bellowed. "Have you gone completely mental? Don't you remember who was responsible for letting the Death Eaters into this school? It's _his_ fault Dumbledore is dead! He nearly killed Katie Bell, he nearly killed _me_, and he got Bill mauled by that demented werewolf!"

Draco grinned and wondered how Granger would counter that one. Potter was nodding like a china doll with a broken neck. Hermione rose to the challenge.

"He only did those things to save his parents. If you were in that situation, Ronald, you might have done the same!"

Weasley's eyes were cold. "No, I really don't think I would. And I can't believe you're defending him!"

Potter spoke up in a scathing tone. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself, Malfoy? Going to let Hermione do all the talking for you?"

Draco smiled coldly, but his blood boiled at the very idea of explaining himself to _Potter_. He managed to keep his voice even.

"She likes to talk, as you may have noticed. Frankly, I don't give a fucking damn about your opinion, Potter. I don't owe you any explanations and I have no intention of trotting out my actions for your narrow-minded, judgmental, Gryffindor perusal. You've made up your mind about me and I have definitely made up my mind about you, so let's acknowledge our mutual hatred and move on to the task at hand. The sooner we destroy the Dark Lord's trinkets, the sooner you and he can get on with the job of eradicating each other and the sooner the rest of us can get back to our lives."

Potter's green eyes fairly sparkled with rage. Weasley couldn't even speak and his face was so red his freckles were invisible.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" Hermione hissed. Her voice was heavy with reproach. Draco was suddenly sick to death of Gryffindors. Hermione and her bloody ideals! What had she expected? That he, Potter, and Weasley would embrace like brothers? He decided to spoil her naiveté.

"Yes, I think it was," he said icily. "But, thank you for trying."

With that, he reached out and slung an arm around her waist. He pulled her tightly against him and then leaned down to plant a kiss on her astonished mouth. He took his time about it, figuring he might as well die for a pound as a penny. Intending to chastise her, he tasted her lingeringly, letting his tongue glide over her lips in exquisite torment. His senses were suddenly overcome with the feel, scent, and taste of her. His own pulse quickened, which was not at all what he'd intended.

She was too stiff with shock to respond. Of all the risks he'd taken in the past few days, kissing Hermione Granger with a wand in her hand in full view of her two protectors ranked quite high up on the list.

He nibbled her bottom lip with his teeth, wishing the moment didn't have to end so soon, and then released her and stepped back. Her eyes had an incredulous, glazed look and she barely seemed to be breathing. He felt a bit dazed himself.

"You know where I'll be," he said dryly and stepped lightly down the stairs.

The horrified stasis that held Potter and Weasley was broken by Ron's cry of pure rage.

"_You bastard!_"

Draco didn't pause, although he flicked a glance at Weasley. To his amusement, Potter reached out and grabbed Ron's arm before he could level a crazed spell at Draco.

"Better keep your pet on a leash, Potter," he said as he passed them. "He's liable to get hurt." He chuckled slightly as he took the stairs to the Slytherin dungeon and left the Gryffindors behind. Hermione was likely to hate him again after that display and Draco was both relieved and disappointed by the notion. It was back to status quo: Draco against the Gryffindor trio. He sighed. Bloody hell. Kissing her had been far better than he'd imagined…

Hermione was too shocked to move. Draco's kiss was intense—searching, teasing, and altogether electrifying. In the space of two heartbeats she felt so weak she could barely stand and every coherent thought was overwhelmed by the feel of him pressed hard against her and taste of him upon her mouth.

She nearly staggered when he released her to sweep down the stairs without a backward glance. She stared after him in bemusement as he stalked past Ron and Harry. She vaguely noticed Ron leap at Draco, to be stopped by Harry. Her eyes followed his platinum head as it disappeared above a billow of black cloak.

Only when her gaze drifted back to meet Harry's stormy emerald orbs did reality snap back into place. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Harry ascended the stairs until he stood next to her.

"I hope you have a bloody good explanation for that," he said and walked away. Ron trailed after him and looked at her with angry disgust.

"Kissing Draco Malfoy?" he spat. "What the hell have you two been doing? Who the hell _are_ you?" He stormed after Harry and she glanced at the dungeon entrance. At the moment, she would have much preferred to run after Draco than follow her two enraged companions.

Why had he kissed her? Merely to annoy Harry and Ron? Was there more to it than that? At the Riddle house, she had thought he was going to kiss her, but the moment passed and she was certain she had imagined it…

She sighed shakily and shook off her preoccupation with Malfoy. Hermione never knew what to expect from him, anyway. There could be a reason for his action or it could merely have been an impulsive amusement. She hurried after Harry and Ron. She caught up with them on the fifth floor while they waited for the staircase to shift.

"Look, I know this is hard. It's going to be difficult for you to accept Malfoy—maybe even impossible, but we need all the help we can get," Hermione said. "It wasn't easy for me, either."

"Really?" sneered Ron. "You didn't seem to be fighting all that hard."

"All he did was kiss me, Ronald! I suppose I should have turned him into a mongoose?" she snapped.

"_Yes!_" Ron yelled.

"Well, I'm certain he only did it to irritate you and look, it worked! We've been through hell in the past two days and I don't think I'd have made it without his help, and Neville certainly wouldn't have. I don't expect _you_ to think he's changed, but there is more to Draco Malfoy than that annoying façade he constantly projects."

"Tonks would have rescued Neville," Harry said doggedly as he stepped onto the stair.

"Oh really? Right after Dobby and Kreacher disappeared? You think she could have taken on all the Death Eaters by herself? Even I was taken unawares. If Malfoy planned to betray us, he could have left us both there with Neville."

"I don't want to hear another word about Saint Malfoy!" Harry decided loudly. Ron nodded eager agreement.

"Fine!" she yelled. "Bury your head in the sand and don't accept help where it's offered! No one else is going to be able to tell us about the Death Eaters or what Voldemort might be doing next. Perhaps you should think about _that_ instead of clinging to your childish hatred!"

She stormed away.

"Childish?" Harry exclaimed after her.

"I'll be in the library if you two should care to _grow up_!" she called as a parting shot.

They arrived in the library some twenty minutes later. Hermione was nearly obscured behind a stack of dusty tomes.

"Find anything?" Harry asked sheepishly.

She shook her head. "Not a single reference to a Horcrux. I think I'm going to have to go back farther. Maybe the Runic Scrolls will have some mention of who invented them. It would give us somewhere to start, at least. If we knew how they were made, maybe we could determine how to destroy one."

"I know how they are made. Well, not the spell, but the process. It's created by a murder, so it isn't like you can undo it."

Hermione sighed. "No. Maybe it's more like an exorcism—to release the soul trapped inside the object. If nothing else, we may have to apply the Mordor solution. I don't see how that could fail."

"What's the Mordor solution?" Ron asked grudgingly.

"Throw it into a live volcano," Harry replied.

"We don't have a lot of those in England."

"We don't have a lot of those anywhere close by," Hermione said. "So, hopefully, we can find a more viable solution. Let me try in the religious and clerical section. You two keep checking these. I'd rather save translating scrolls from Ancient Runic for a last resort."

She headed back into the rows of shelves.

Draco became rapidly bored sitting in the Slytherin common room alone. He thought about contacting Hermione by coin, but wasn't certain how she would react. He decided to go do some research on his own.

When he entered the library, he was somewhat annoyed to see Potter and Weasley already there. Weasley was lounging in a window seat, flipping through a large book that rested on his lap and looking as if he would rather be boiled in oil. Potter sat at a table, surrounded by books. Hermione was nowhere in sight, which was not a good sign. Perhaps she was more upset than he'd expected.

Harry said nothing, just looked at him through cool green eyes.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Ron said venomously.

Draco smiled lazily.

"Where's Granger?" he asked simply to observe Ron's reaction. It was better than expected.

"You leave her alone!" he yelled, tossing the book aside and leaping to his feet.

Draco tsked. "Don't be surprised that she prefers me to you, Weasel. Have you looked in the mirror, lately? You've had six years to win her over, but I suppose you did your best. Only took me two days, but that's to be expected, eh?"

"You'd better shut your face, Malfoy, before I shut it for you!"

Draco sighed. "Your threats haven't improved, either. Still as empty as ever."

"Did you just come here to be your usual unpleasant self, Malfoy?" Harry interjected. Draco's gaze shifted to Potter, who looked surprisingly unperturbed.

"No. I wasn't expecting company," he admitted.

"Feel free to do what you came to do, then, and stop baiting Ron."

"If you were looking for Hermione, she's not here," Ron interjected. "She's most likely washing her mouth out with strong soap."

Weasley's retort was laughable. Draco decided to let the matter drop. For Hermione's sake, he would even make a peace overture.

"Relax, Weasel. I only kissed her to get your dander up. You know I'd never sully myself with a Mudblood."

He heard a gasp behind him and turned to see Hermione standing behind him with her arms laden with books. Her eyes were wide and horrified. Draco felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Tears swam in her brown eyes and she slapped the books on the nearest table and fled into the library recesses.

Draco took two steps after her and stopped, conscious of her friends' eyes upon him. Several choice curse words rolled through his mind. He had purposely tried to hurt her for six long years, yet he had cut her most deeply when he least intended to.

He forced a cold smile attainable only through years of habit and sat down before the stack of books. He ignored Potter and Weasley to crack open a tome. He turned page after page without seeing a word.

Hermione returned, marched past Draco without a glance, and sat down across from Harry. Ron hurried over to sit next to her.

"All right," she said briskly. "Now that we're all here, we can start coming up with some ideas." Her voice was steady, but Draco caught the wounded undertone. She conjured a piece of parchment and a quill. "What do we know about Horcruxes? We'll go down the list, starting with Who. The first Who, obviously, is Voldemort. I think we need to focus on the other Whos, such as those that know—or knew—about them. Professor Slughorn knew, as he gave Tom Riddle information, even though Voldemort had originally learned about them from another source. I don't think we'll ever learn that, but we may be able to determine where Slughorn learned of them. Was it something he read, some arcane knowledge passed down through his ancestors, or some other means? If it comes down to it, we may have to confront him." She jotted down several notes.

"The next person of interest is Severus Snape. He seems to know about them, probably from Dumbledore, but possibly not. For all we know, Snape is the one who told Dumbledore. We're not likely to find out which."

Draco left off pretending to read and walked closer to the window to lounge in an overstuffed chair. He threw one leg over the arm of the chair and toyed idly with his wand. Hermione's voice did not pause.

"The next Who is Regulus Black. He not only learned about Horcruxes, but he learned about _Voldemort's_ Horcruxes. Somehow, he managed to steal one. We have too many unanswered questions, here. How did he find out? He said he knew Voldemort's secret, but why would that turn him from being a Death Eater? Sirius said he got in over his head and tried to back out—because of what he was being asked to do."

"Wrong," Draco said in a bored tone. Hermione hushed and three pairs of eyes turned to him. He twirled his wand, weaving it through his fingers in a blur. He shrugged. "Regulus was a typical Black, nasty, bloodthirsty and obsessed with fanatical pureblood idealism. Sirius was the aberration—which got him disowned."

The others said nothing, although Ron had made a snorting sound at "pureblood idealism." Draco went on. "Regulus had no qualms whatsoever about the dirty deeds the Dark Lord requested of him. I don't think the Horcruxes would have bothered him overmuch, either. Actually, the nasty little secret that Regulus discovered was the fact that his fabulous new Lord and Master was Muggle-born. Regulus had been raised from birth with the idea that purebloods were royalty and everyone else was fodder. Can you imagine how horrified and betrayed he would have felt to find he'd sold his soul to one he believed to be unworthy scum? From what I hear, Mum Black would have _Crucioed_ him at the very idea. You notice none of the other Blacks were standing in line to become Death Eaters? It was beneath their social circle to begin with. Regulus thumbed his nose at his family just to join up. It would have been unforgivable for them to discover the Dark Lord was a Mudblood. I think Regulus went a bit mad at the news and _that_ is what set him down the path to destroy everything the Dark Lord stood for."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked.

"Regulus was my mother's favorite cousin. They spent loads of time together. I think he was half in love with her, even though she was six years older and already dating my father. She was devastated when he disappeared, but she knew why. She said as young as he was, he was devilishly clever. He apparently invented more Dark Arts spells than his friend Severus Snape."

"They were _friends_?" Hermione actually spoke. He took that as encouragement.

"As close as two egocentric, overachieving loners can get. Apparently, the main thing they had in common was a deep and abiding hatred for James Potter and Sirius Black."

Harry was incredulous. "Regulus hated Sirius? His own brother?"

"You find that hard to believe? Regulus was the golden boy of the Black family, happily clinging to tradition and the Dark Arts. Sirius was the outcast, defiantly befriending werewolves and Muggle-borns, disregarding everything his family stood for. Regulus was two years younger. When he came to Hogwarts, Potter and his gang tormented him mercilessly. He embraced the Dark Arts partly in self-defense."

"Where did he learn about Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

Draco nodded. "I've been thinking about that and I have a theory. I think it likely that Bellatrix Lestrange spilled the beans." He stopped twirling his wand and sat forward, warming to his subject at the novelty of having three Gryffindors intently hanging on his words. "Bella is the most rabid of the Dark Lord's followers. To the point of insanity, as we all know. She prides herself in being the most loyal, most trusted, most favored. Now, picture young Regulus joining up—just as fanatical, at first, but by all accounts far more talented. Ruthless and creative—a combination the Dark Lord would recognize and cultivate. Bellatrix would have been furious. She was always jealous of Regulus, according to Mother. I believe the Dark Lord gave a Horcrux to Bella. Whether she was to hide it or guard it is anyone's guess. She may not even have known what it was, other than the fact that it was precious to the Dark Lord. Bella, being overwhelmingly pleased at this sign of trust, probably hurried straight to Regulus to boast about her favored status. And Regulus, being quite a lot smarter than Bellatrix, would have known exactly what it was. As soon as he learned the Dark Lord's dirty little secret, he would have made use of that knowledge."

Hermione shook her head. "If he was so clever, how was he caught and killed so quickly?"

Draco sighed. "That always bothered me. I've never been convinced he _was_ killed. If anyone could cheat death and fool the Dark Lord, it would have been Regulus Black."

"But, wouldn't he have come out of hiding once Voldemort disappeared?"

"Not if he was living like a king in Fiji. He may have chucked it all and fled. Hard to believe he would have left his adoring mum, but he was ruthless, so it's possible. Or maybe he just slipped up and the Death Eaters caught him."

"I wonder if there is any way to determine if he's really dead," Hermione mused. "Does anyone know where he was allegedly killed?"

"My parents and most of the Death Eaters. Unfortunately, they're not exactly reachable at the moment," Draco said.

"They would be if we had telephones," Hermione snapped.

Draco grinned. At least she was still speaking to him… after a fashion.

"I would suggest checking old copies of The Daily Prophet, but I don't think they wasted much space on dead Death Eaters."

"We'll check, anyway," Hermione decided. "We might get lucky, for once. As far as I know, that exhausts our Whos. Next, we need to look at What. We already have the cup, the locket has disappeared, and we have no idea what Gryffindor and Ravenclaw items Voldemort may have used. Rather than waste time trying to figure out what we might be looking for, it may be better to concentrate on Where. Once we pinpoint a location, finding the actual Horcrux should be relatively simple. We got lucky with the cup, although we have no idea why Snape would help Malfoy find the thing—"

"He likes me," Draco said modestly.

"That makes one person," Ron sneered. "_If_ you consider Snape to be a person, that is." He chuckled to himself.

"And the other items were in places of significance to Voldemort. If we could discover places that had meaning to Tom Riddle…"

"The orphanage," Harry said suddenly. "Dumbledore told me Riddle was raised in a Muggle orphanage. The cave he took children to in order to terrify them was the site of one Horcrux—why not the place where he first learned he was a wizard?"

"But, he hated it there. He despised his Muggle roots."

"All the more reason to use it as a place to house his greatest triumph. I'll ask McGonagall to… oh, I can't. We'll have to go through the old files ourselves. I'll find out where the archived student records are kept and nick the address."

"I'll help you," said Ron.

"All right. Where else?"

"Hogwarts, obviously. He's obsessed with this place," Draco said.

"I agree. We may have to enter the Chamber of Secrets."

"Dumbledore was sure to have checked it thoroughly," Harry said.

Ron shuddered. "Let's save that for last. It's horrible down there. Full of spiders."

"We probably should have searched it long before now, but you're right, Harry. Dumbledore was certain to have investigated it properly. Perhaps Voldemort intended the diary to be kept at Hogwarts all along. A book would not have gained much notice in a school. Malfoy's father actually did us a favor with his nasty little prank, although it certainly didn't seem like it at the time."

Three accusatory sets of eyes fixed on Draco, who ignored them.

"I would suspect the Ministry of Magic, as well," he said.

"The Ministry?" Harry sounded surprised.

"It would amuse him. Difficult for the Dark Lord to smuggle an item in, but his minions often have free run of the place. Either that or a simple _Imperius Curse_ on a Ministry official."

"We'd never find it there," Ron said. "That place is full of weird items."

"True, we'd have to know exactly what we were looking for. Even then, it would take us awhile. I might have to figure a way to contact my father and see if he knows anything. Too bad I didn't have a chance to talk to him about these before I left."

Draco was pensive for a moment. His mother was likely out of her mind with worry. He needed to send her a message. There was a way, although it was unpleasant and carried an element of risk.

Hermione continued, "I'm making a list of all the places Voldemort might have hidden one, regardless of how slim the chance. I hate to say it, but Godric's Hollow is a likely location."

Harry blanched. Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand gently.

"No need for you to go back there. Ron and I can handle it."

Draco almost snorted. Ron could barely handle dressing himself. Her statement made it pointedly clear that Draco was not to be included in any of their plans. He'd have to correct that erroneous assumption.

When Hermione finished scratching on the parchment, she said, "That's it for Where, unless we can think of any more places. The When doesn't matter and we won't have much luck with dates, anyway. We really don't know when he made the Horcruxes, nor when he hid them. Ditto for How. That information seems to be rigidly buried. Lastly, we already know Why. Because he's terrified of death and he's utterly insane."

She looked at the others.

"Where shall we start? Harry, has the Pensieve been any use?"

Harry flushed.

"I'm still working on it. Nothing useful, so far."

Draco raised a brow at that. Harry had obviously left out volumes of information with that statement. Gryffindors were so transparent. Hermione didn't seem to catch his omission.

"Well, then, I suggest you get back to that, as well as finding out where the student records are archived. I am starving, so I plan to get something to eat before I come back here and try to narrow down which locations are the most likely for us to begin searching. Ron, maybe you can find the archives while Harry is using the Pensieve. Malfoy… I really don't care what you do."

With that, she rolled up the parchment, got to her feet, and stalked out. Ron looked at Draco with a smug expression. Draco grinned maliciously.

"You have your orders, Gryffindors! Snap to it!" He snapped his fingers with emphasis. "While you're busy, I plan to relax here and catch up on my sleep. Enjoy your afternoon."

Draco lounged in the chair with an expression of contentment. He shut his eyes and listened to Harry and Ron muttering as they stomped out. He chuckled in satisfaction. Now… what was he to do about Hermione Granger?


	22. Chapter 22 Happy Potions

**Chapter Twenty Two – Happy Potions and How to Make Them**

Draco waited long enough to make certain Potter and Weasley wouldn't return and then he headed downstairs. He caught Hermione as she exited the fruit painting that led to the kitchens. She stared at him in surprise for a moment and then her eyes narrowed.

"I decided I'm not that hungry, after all," she said casually. "I'm going to visit Hagrid."

Draco shook his head in puzzlement. He would never understand the trio's affinity for that freakish, half-giant monster.

"I need to talk to you," he said. Her expression instantly chilled.

"What for? I don't want you to taint yourself by being in such close proximity to a loathsome Mudblood."

Draco winced. She really was angry. Hermione stepped around him and started for the front doors. He turned and went after her.

"Look, I only said that to Weasley for your sake."

She stopped and turned to glare at him.

"For _my_ sake. Please tell me how spiteful slurs uttered behind my back are to my benefit."

"I was trying to calm the Weasel. He was practically frothing at the mouth."

"A state you likely contributed to put him in."

True, but he wasn't putting that weapon on the table.

"Regardless. I only said what I did to appease Weasley." He paused and suddenly realized that he couldn't recall the last time he'd apologized to anyone, for anything. It had likely been years. He continued lamely, "I didn't mean it. I don't… think of you that way any longer."

Her icy expression didn't change. "We've already established that you're an excellent liar. You need not remind me."

She turned and pushed her way out the doors. Draco flushed angrily. Stubborn wench!

He caught her at the foot of the steps outside. Afternoon shadows were lengthening about the grounds and a wicked breeze had sprung up. Clouds billowed on the horizon, promising more rain. Draco's hand closed on Hermione's arm. She glared at him and tore her arm out of his grasp.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" she snarled. Her hair, caught by the wind, twisted across her face in wild strands. "I don't want you to _sully_ yourself!"

"I already said I didn't mean that!" he yelled, incensed.

"You've called me a Mudblood a hundred thousand times since we started at this school!" she shouted back. "How could you suddenly not mean it? You're a bloody pureblood and that will always be important to you. I was an idiot to believe you had changed! In _two days_? What was I thinking?"

She headed down the path again, walking so quickly that she was nearly running. Draco tore a hand through his hair. He'd never been faced with such obstinacy. He pulled out his wand and sent a spell flying after her. A nearby bush reached out and snatched at her cape, dragging her to a halt. She glared at him as he approached. Her hands busily attacked the offending branches, trying to break their grip.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded.

"I want you to listen," Draco snapped.

"Why?"

"I'm starting to wonder that, myself."  
Their stares matched ice for ice. The rising wind did nothing to cool Draco's growing fury. His cape flapped about his legs and Hermione's emerald blouse clung to every curve. Draco was suddenly at a loss for words. She was determined not to listen to him. He clenched his fists and wondered why he even bothered. What was she to him? A girl that had stupidly trusted him? How many of those had he devastated? Why did he care about her opinion, anyway?

He angrily sent a spell at the bush, freeing her.

"Forget it," he said and set his jaw. "It's not worth it."

Draco turned and stalked back to the castle without looking back.

Hermione watched him go and felt a hard lump form in her throat. Almost, she ran after him, but what would that prove? That she was willing to be an idiot once more? That she could take one look at him and drown in those silver eyes? That she was foolish enough to believe in him simply because it was what she wanted? She pulled her cape tightly around herself, fighting the growing chill that came from within.

She watched Draco until the door slammed behind him as he entered the building. Why did he have to be such a puzzle? He was so bloody unpredictable and wrapped up in intricacies. Which Draco was the real one today? The one that kissed her? Or the one that called her Mudblood? The one that tried to apologize, or the one that stalked away like a wounded panther?

She turned and continued down the path to Hagrid's hut, pushed along by the wind. Rather than knock on the door, she actually banged into it with both hands held out to stop herself.

The door opened and Hagrid filled the doorway.

"Hermione! I didn't know you was here! Come in out o' the wind! It's gotten right nasty out there. Let me get you a nice cuppa."

She sat down at the table and watched Hagrid bustle around near the fire. It was always somehow comforting to be in Hagrid's cozy home, even though one never knew what terrifying creatures might lurk in every wooden crate. With that thought in mind, Hermione asked nervously, "Have you gotten any new… pets, lately?"

Hagrid sighed and set a gigantic steaming mug before her. She wondered if she would be able to pick it up with both hands.

"Naw, I haven't felt much up ter gettin' out, since…"

Hermione nodded. Hagrid's expression was grim. She knew Dumbledore's death had affected Hagrid more than anyone. Dumbledore had been more than a friend; he had practically become Hagrid's father.

"But, Lupin's been havin' me do some stuff fer the Order. Ter keep me busy," he said brightly. "I'm sure glad yeh come ter see me. I know Harry and Ron's here, but they haven't come down… mus' be too busy…"

Hermione hastened to reassure him while mentally sending a sharp kick in Harry's direction.

"He probably thinks you're off on a mission for the Order. And he's been using Dumbledore's Pensieve to try and find some information on how to stop Vol—You-Know-Who." She had weaned herself away from using Voldemort's pseudonym, but it still bothered Hagrid to hear his name.

Hagrid nodded sadly. "Yer prob'ly righ'. I shoulda gone up ter see Harry. It's just… every time I go ter the castle, I keep expectin' ter see _him_ comin' down the stairs or standin' in the Great Hall…"

Tears filled Hagrid's eyes and Hermione impulsively stood to give him a hug. He enveloped her in his huge arms, being careful not to crush her, and sobbed a bit. After awhile, he pushed her away and coughed while wiping a fist across his eyes.

"Sorry 'bout that. I should be movin' on by now, yer think?"

Hermione dabbed the moisture from her own eyes with the edge of her cape and shook her head.

"Grief takes time, Hagrid, and I think you are dealing with it in a very healthy manner."

He looked relieved as she sat down again. She felt worse than ever. If she had come to see Hagrid to cheer herself up, it had backfired miserably. She leaned forward and tipped her flagon slightly to take a noisy sip of tea. She shuddered delicately. It was certainly strong enough.

Hagrid sat down across from her and studied her critically.

"Yer look tired. Somethin's botherin' yah. What is it?"

She nodded and sighed.

"Isn't it odd, Hagrid, how some people are so complicated? The simple people are so much easier to deal with. Look at Ron—he wears his heart on his sleeve; his every thought spills out of his mouth without a trace of guile; and his emotions are obvious in his every expression. You know he is kind, brave, loyal, and honest the minute you meet him." She stood up and walked to the fireplace and back, unconsciously pacing. "And then there are the other kind. The people that say one thing and mean the exact opposite. The ones that tell the truth but make it sound like a lie, and tell lies that sound like concrete fact. The ones who hide every emotion so you never know what they're actually feeling; the one's that twist a web of complexity about themselves so thick that if you try to follow a strand to the center you get tangled in another dozen along the way…"

Hagrid looked thoroughly confused.

"Who yer talkin' about? Only one I know like that is Snape." He spat the name. "Never did understand why Dumbledore thought he was so good. Mind you, he never did nothin' ter me except give me that look he had—yah know the one, like we was dirt under his feet… but he did that ter everyone."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. He had plenty to hide, didn't he? He needed a complicated web of defenses to hide his true nature and motives." She nibbled on a fingernail. And yet, Snape was helping Draco find the Horcruxes. Even now, his intentions were unclear. Was Draco the same? What was his true nature? The cold, vicious Slytherin who stalked through the halls and snarled evil comments and lashed out at everyone before they could even consider doing the same to him? Or was it the calm, competent Draco that had taken the Horcrux stick from her tired hands and ordered her out of the Riddle house for her own safety? He was so different away… from… here… She gasped suddenly.

"How could I have been so stupid? Thank you for the tea, Hagrid, but I've got to go!"

She would have rushed out, but the door refused to budge. Hagrid got up and forced the door open against the wind. She pushed her way out into the gale and walked with difficulty back to the castle. Her cape flapped like a flag behind her and she had to tightly grip the clasp to keep it from choking her. It was going to be a devil of a storm when the rain arrived.

She had to use magic to get the castle doors open and she breathed a sigh of relief when they slammed behind her. She tried to smooth her hair and found it tangled far beyond what a pair of hands could repair. She would find Draco… just as soon as she did something about the snarled mess on her head.

Harry examined the rows of bottles left by Dumbledore, checking the labels carefully. He hoped none of the other memories would be as intense as the last one he'd experienced. Harry lifted one from the stack.

"It looks like this one is next. 'Albus and Severus, November, 1981,' it says. Maybe we'll finally learn why he trusted Snape."

"We could have used that information about six years ago," Ron said ruefully. He was sitting in the Headmaster's chair—Headmistress's, now—with his feet up on the desk.

"Yeah. See if you can find any record archives in here. With our luck, they're down in Filch's office." Harry wrinkled his brow. "Speaking of Filch, have you seen him? I'm surprised we haven't seen him and that stupid cat since we've been here. It's been nice having Madam Pince gone from the library."

"Maybe Filch actually takes a vacation." Ron laughed.

"Sure, I can picture him touring the Tower of London," Harry said.

"Probably has a photo album of all the different torture devices."

"With notes on how to recreate them."

They both laughed.

Harry lifted the bottle and carried it to the Pensieve.

"If McGonagall comes back, ask her about those archives."

"What am I supposed to tell her if she asks why I want them?" Ron protested.

"Tell her the truth. We need to find out where Tom Riddle used to live. Hmmm, have to come up with a good reason for that, eh?" He snapped his fingers. "I know. Tell her Hermione is making a map of all the locations relevant to Tom Riddle for some theory she has regarding where Voldemort will strike next."

"Brilliant. We won't mention it to Hermione, though, or she'll actually start it as a project," Ron said.

"Well, you might want to mention it to her, just in case McGonagall asks her about it."

"Right."

Dumbledore's portrait nodded approvingly.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to just tell the Order about these stupid Horcruxes?" Ron asked. He pulled out his wand and tried to twiddle it through his fingers like Malfoy. It dropped on the ground.

"We can't. Suppose one of them got captured by Voldemort or the Death Eaters? Our only advantage is that Voldemort doesn't know that we know about them. If he knew that we knew, he would gather them up and guard them more thoroughly than they are now. If Malfoy and Hermione found Hufflepuff's cup so quickly, Voldemort can't suspect that we know about them. We have to keep it as quiet as possible."

Ron sighed. "I suppose. Still, if Malfoy knows, it's hard to believe others don't."

"Didn't Hermione say that Snape told him?"

Ron snorted. "How many other people did Snape tell? Hey, didn't Hermione leave that Horcrux in the library? I thought I saw the bag on the table…"

Harry winced. "You know, we really need to come up with a code name for the things."

"How about You-Know-What?"

Harry shook his head. "Too cumbersome. That's why I could never get into calling Voldemort You-Know-Who. Can you think of something simpler?"

"What did Malfoy call them? 'Trinkets?'"

"That'll work. Who would have thought Malfoy would be useful? I'd better go get that 'Trinket' from the library before it gets misplaced and we end up searching for it again. Plus, Hermione will kill us both if we lose it. I'll be right back."

Harry hurried down to the fourth floor and saw with relief that the black pouch still rested on the table near the books. He verified the cup was still nestled within and put the strap around his neck.

When he returned to the gargoyle statue, he saw that Malfoy lounged idly against the wall next to it.

"There you are, Potter. Good, I was afraid I'd be standing out here all afternoon. Did you find that address, yet?"

"The address to the Riddle orphanage? It's only been fifteen minutes."

"Well, hurry it up. I need some action."

Harry muttered the password to the gargoyle, having no intention of giving it to Malfoy. It was "sugar quill" and Harry had been surprised to find McGonagall keeping Dumbledore's habit of naming the password after sweets. The gargoyle leaped aside and the wall opened to reveal the staircase.

Harry snorted. "You won't be going after the thing, anyway."

He stepped onto the moving spiral stairs and Malfoy followed.

"Why not? In your eyes, I'm expendable. If I'm killed in the effort, so much the better for you. Only Granger's cleverness kept us from running the gauntlet of traps at the Riddle house. I doubt we'll be so lucky again."

"Frankly, Malfoy, I'll never trust you enough to send you after a Horcrux on your own. Get used to the idea."

Ron's head snapped up when he heard Harry's words and saw the two of them exit the staircase.

"Fine. Weasley can come along and be my watchdog," Malfoy said.

"I plan to go after the damned thing myself."

Draco laughed incredulously. "And she keeps telling me you aren't stupid. You're underage. Do you plan to use no magic while retrieving it?"

Harry scowled. "As far as the Ministry knows, I'm still at the Dursleys. If I use magic anywhere else in Britain, they can't possibly know about it."

"I'm not so sure. The Ministry seems to be all in a dither about you. It wouldn't surprise me if they attached a few extra tracking spells on you, just to be safe. That's what I would do, but then, the Ministry isn't exactly known for intelligence. After all, they hired Weasley's dad."

Harry's gaze slid to Ron, but he was surprisingly unruffled.

"I've decided to ignore you from now on, Malfoy, just as I would any other vermin. Roaches, centipedes, Malfoys… they're all the same."

Harry grinned, a smile that widened when he saw Draco's patented smirk slip just a bit. Malfoy shrugged.

"Good. It will be lot easier retrieving the Horcrux without you yapping and trying to hex me every five minutes."

"You're not going. And why would you take Ron? Why not Hermione? I thought you two were great pals after the Hufflepuff cup scenario."

Draco's gaze became positively glacial. Harry mused that grey was the perfect color for Malfoy's eyes. Grey like winter fog, icy road slush, and frozen metal poles that tore your skin off if you touched them.

"I'm sure she will be more useful in the library," he said blandly. Harry cocked a brow at him. Whenever Malfoy made a casual comment, there was generally a volume of unsaid information hiding beneath it. He wondered about Draco's relationship with Hermione. What had they been doing the past few days? What was up with that kiss? Hermione certainly hadn't seemed to mind it at the time. Harry had expected an enraged slap, followed by a shove down the stairs and a massive stinging hex. Instead, she had looked about to collapse from sheer bliss. And that scene in the library… Malfoy had called her Mudblood hundreds of times and earned nothing more than an absent sneer or a return insult. This time, the slur had cut her. Harry could tell. He grinned.

"She's brassed off at you, isn't she?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. How long before you have that address? Do I have to find it myself?"

"Feel free to look around. I'm going to take a jaunt in the Pensieve, if you'd care to wait." He tossed the pouch with the cup in the window seat.

Malfoy shrugged. "I'll search the office while you're doing that. I doubt Weasley has gotten up the nerve to go through the desk drawers."

Ron flushed, but said nothing. Harry walked to the Pensieve and uncorked the vial he had left nearby. He poured the silver contents into the bowl and watched it swirl. Malfoy watched curiously.

"Back soon," Harry said and put his face into the liquid.

It took Harry a moment to get his bearings, as he fell into a scene nearly identical to the one he'd left. Instead of Ron lounging in the chair, it was Dumbledore. Bizarrely, his feet were up on the desk exactly as Ron's had been. Instead of holding a wand, Dumbledore held a handful of colorful candy and was popping them into the air one at a time and levitating them into his mouth.

Near the spot where Draco had stood was Severus Snape. He looked the same as he usually did: greasy hair, unpleasant scowl, morose expression. In one hand, he held a large, tattered book with a black cover.

"Headmaster, I need to speak with you about a matter of some import," Snape said.

"I assumed so, Severus, or you wouldn't be here. Would you care for a Sugar Ant? There are different types of cream beneath the candy shell. The ants give them just the right zing. Delightful, really. Except the green ones. Not certain why they chose asparagus flavor over lime. I must write to the manufacturer…"

Snape's pinched expression became even more so. "No, thank you."

His tone must have alerted Dumbledore, for the Headmaster dropped his candy on the desk and put his feet down. He sat forward and steepled his fingers, as Harry had seen him do on numerous occasions. Harry frowned at the familiarity of the gesture and forced down a wave of sadness. He needed to concentrate on the conversation and not be drawn into nostalgia.

"Very well, Severus. What is it this time? A student matter?"

Snape scowled and sat down in a chair across from Dumbledore. He set the book upon his lap.

"Nothing to do with the school. I have confessed much to you and I think it's time to let you in on the reasoning behind many of my actions, especially those of late."

Dumbledore nodded seriously.

"You have decided to trust me at last, then?"

Snape's black eyes flashed.

"I have entrusted you with my deepest secrets, as you well know. You are aware of the mistakes I've made and the agony with which I have approached many of my decisions. What I tell you now will make some of those decisions clearer."

Harry scowled. November. It could only have been a few weeks since the death of Harry's parents, at most. He wanted to climb over the desk and shake Dumbledore. How could he believe any of the tripe spewing from Snape's lips? _Mistakes_. _Agony_. Even Harry could tell Snape wasn't sincere!

"The reason I asked you to help me recently is because I know the secret of the Dark Lord. I told you he will return. I know _why_ he will return."

Dumbledore's pleasant expression had vanished, replaced by the serious, competent wizard Harry had seen so infrequently.

"And why is that?"

"Horcruxes," Snape said simply.

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. Snape nodded.

"I see you've heard the term. I heard about Voldemort's plans from a reliable source. A Death Eater, of course." Snape's face twisted. "It would be bad enough if he had created a single Horcrux. The fact is, Voldemort so fears death that he made several."

Dumbledore stood. "This is very serious."

Snape nodded. "Now you know. I haven't been able to learn much about the items."

"The knowledge is forbidden."

"I did find a single reference in this book." Snape lifted the tome and handed it to Dumbledore, who took it. Harry hurried over to get a look at the book as Dumbledore flipped to the page noted by a red silk bookmark.

"From Salazar Slytherin's personal library," Snape commented.

"How did you get this?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

Snape rolled his eyes and his thin lips twisted in a sneer. "Have you forgotten who I am? I know quite a large number of dark wizards."

"And you are ruthless enough to steal this from beneath their very noses," Dumbledore muttered.

"Quite right." Snape's eyes flashed, but he seemed more proud than angry at Dumbledore's words. Harry read the word Horcrux in stylized print at the top of the page. The other words on the page were in a dark, cramped looking print that seemed to squiggle slightly when he looked at them. He frowned. Only books of very dark magic were written in such print. Dumbledore scanned the page quickly. Harry could only make out a few words in the archaic type. It seemed to be an introduction to Horcruxes. Dumbledore flipped the page and then slammed the book shut, much to Harry's annoyance.

"We would both be in severe trouble if this book were even found in our possession," Dumbledore warned. "You carried this openly through the halls?"

Snape looked at him levelly. "Did you bother to read the cover?"

Dumbledore turned the book over. Harry peered over his shoulder to read the tome.

Happy Potions and How to Make Them by Ernestine Welshmyre.

"Well, I suppose that would fool a casual observer," Dumbledore commented. Harry snorted. Anyone that didn't know Snape! "Thank you, Severus. I will give your words some consideration. I'll return this to you when I'm finished reading it and we can speculate at that time."

Snape nodded. "I shall return the book to Spinner's End so that it will not… get anyone into trouble." He rose and headed for the door.

"Severus. See that no one else is told about this."

Snape scowled. "I'm not a fool." He stalked out.

Dumbledore sighed when he was gone. "No indeed. Never a fool."

He set the book on the desk and cracked the cover once more to reveal the book's true title, printed on the yellowing parchment.

Secrets of Longevity and Immortality by Baptahlah.

The memory ended and Harry was suddenly back in the present-day office. He cursed roundly.

Malfoy looked at him in amusement from where he lounged in the same chair Pensieve Snape had vacated.

"I didn't think Gryffindors were allowed to use such language, Potter."

"Belt it, Malfoy. I think we may finally have caught a break! This was a memory of Snape talking to Dumbledore. He did tell Dumbledore about Voldemort's Horcruxes. Snape had a book with reference to them. Unfortunately, Dumbledore didn't leave the memory of himself reading it, but I may know where to find the book. Snape said he would be taking it back to Spinner's End for safekeeping!" Harry began to pace. "Now, if only we can get Snape's address…"

"I know where he lives," Malfoy said casually.

Harry stared at him. Malfoy laughed and Harry was shocked to hear it sound like a genuine sound of amusement, instead of a sarcastic bark.

"Honestly, Potter, you think I hide out at the Manor all summer long? I have a life, you know. Good old Snape was considered a friend of the family." He shuddered. "Lives in a horrifying house, though, in a wretched neighborhood. What kind of book?"

"A tattered black book." He gave them the two possible titles and continued, "This is great, Malfoy. You could take us there."

"I could take _Weasley_ there. You're staying here."

Harry scowled, but Malfoy held up a hand.

"No way will I be responsible for the safety of The Chosen One. If Snape and a group of Death Eaters happen to be hanging out at Spinner's End, they'll snatch you up and that will be the end of this little war before it's begun."

"He's right, Harry," Ron said, although he sounded like it poisoned his tongue to admit Malfoy was correct.

"Damn it!" Harry yelled. "First I was a prisoner at the Dursleys' and now I'm a prisoner here!"

"It's only for a couple weeks, mate," Ron said apologetically. "And you still have a stack of memories to get through. I'm going to be upset if we go all the way to Snape's and you find a memory of Dumbledore reading the damned book."

Harry looked guiltily at the Pensieve cabinet.

"I won't. I need to get the hell out of here. Come on, Weasley." Draco stood up and headed for the door with a sweep of his cloak. Harry wondered how he managed to get that arrogant rustle in his cape when he walked. Probably years of practice before a mirror.

Ron gaped at Malfoy. "_Now?_"

"No time like the present, Weasley."

Draco headed down the steps.

"How will we get there?" Ron yelled.

"Brooms."

"In this wind?" It was howling like a banshee outside the window. Ron looked at Harry helplessly.

"Stay if you're scared, Weasel," Draco called from below.

"Take my broom, Ron. It's next to my trunk. It has stability controls. Don't let him talk you into doing anything stupid. And for God's sake, don't let him goad you into a fight!"

Ron's freckles stood out like beacons on his white face as he got to his feet.

"Wait up, Malfoy!" he yelled and then muttered, "Stupid, thickheaded Slytherin bastard. If I don't make it back, it's been nice knowing you."

Ron trailed after Malfoy looking like a beaten dog following its master. Harry suddenly regretted offering Ron his broom. He should take his Invisibility Cloak and follow them. Then again, Ron would take that as a sign that Harry didn't trust him, which of course, would be true. He didn't trust Ron around Malfoy.

He turned back to the Pensieve with a feeling of foreboding. Maybe he shouldn't have let Ron go. Still, it was the only lead they had on Horcruxes so far.


	23. Chapter 23 Spinner's End

**Chapter Twenty Three – Spinner's End**

Hermione exited the Gryffindor common room and was nearly bowled over by Ron rushing in.

"What's the hurry?" she asked.

"No time!" said Ron. "Go ask Harry!"

He bolted up the steps to the boy's dorm two at a time and disappeared. She almost called after him to ask if he'd seen Malfoy, but changed her mind. She didn't want to get into another row over Draco. He wouldn't have gone to see Harry and Ron, anyway. She would check the library, and then the Slytherin common room. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out the password, as it was normally something wicked or vile.

She was wrong about that, as it turned out. Thirty minutes of continuous passwords had not caused the blank wall to yield, making her realize—yet again—how little she understood Malfoy. As the only Slytherin in residence, he would have been the one to set the password, yet nothing she tried had worked.

She finally tugged the coin out of her shirt and concentrated on it.

_Where are you?_

There was no response, even after she tried twice more. Damn, he must really be angry. Unless he no longer carried the coin.

Hermione gave up and left the dungeons. She really was hungry now, so she stopped at the kitchen for a meat pie and some fruit before heading for the Headmistress's office to see if Harry was still there. On the way, she ran into Tonks.

"Where have you guys been?" Hermione asked. "I haven't seen a single Order member since we got here, except Hagrid."

"We've taken up temporary residence in Ravenclaw Tower. It's easy access to the Owlery and the top of the castle, in case we need to leave. Although you'd have to be barmy to fly in this weather."

"I know, I walked to and from Hagrid's and nearly blew away."

"Well, Remus wants you all in the Great Hall for dinner at six. See you, then."

Tonks tripped down the stairs and Hermione continued until she entered McGonagall's office. The Headmistress was present, talking to Harry.

"Anything new?" Hermione asked hopefully. Harry shot her an "I'll tell you later" look and shook his head.

"Mostly speculation. We seem to have a lot of that when it comes to Voldemort. I was just asking the Professor—sorry, I mean Headmistress—"

"You can call me Professor, Potter. It sounds odd to hear the other… I'm afraid I'm not used to it, yet. It's going to take some time."

Harry nodded. "In any case, I was asking where Voldemort might have gone during the twenty years of his disappearance, after he left school until he returned as the evil wizard we all know and hate."

"I can only guess that he sought out wizards from around the world in order to learn the Dark Arts."

"Another guess," Harry said with a sigh. He got to his feet. "Well, I'll save this for tomorrow. I'm pretty tired. See you later, Professor. Sorry to keep you disturbing you. I'll move the Pensieve, if you prefer."

"It's fine, Potter. I'm rarely here, anyway. Most of my things have yet to be moved up from downstairs."

Hermione followed Harry out. When they were safely in the corridor, she asked, "Where's Ron? He went flying past me like a bat out of hell in the common room. Have you seen Malfoy?"

"They went to look for something."

"_Together?_ I'd better go help them before they kill each other. What were you thinking? Are they in the library? I checked there, but must have missed them…"

"They went to Snape's house."

Her blood froze and she turned to stare at him. Harry flushed under her angry scrutiny.

"They went to Snape's house," she repeated.

Harry quickly explained about the book and Hermione felt the color drain from her face.

"You let them just fly off? In _this_ weather? Without telling me? Have you gone completely mental?"

Harry glared. "Well, now you know how it feels to be kept in the dark! Besides, Malfoy wasn't about to wait. How was I supposed to stop him? He offered to sacrifice himself to retrieve the book, if necessary, and frankly I didn't see a downside."

Hermione took a deep breath to remain calm. "You didn't see a downside to the possibility of _Ron_ being sacrificed, as well?"

"Ron is a lot more capable than anyone gives him credit for. He's not stupid. Plus, he's with your great friend Malfoy, who knows precisely what I'll do to him if anything happens to Ron."

Hermione shook her head. "If anything happens to them, I will never speak to you again."

Harry's emerald eyes flashed. "If anything happens to whom? Ron? Or Malfoy?"

She matched his stare. "Either one."

With that, she flounced down the steps, unsure whether to blast a hole in the wall or burst into tears.

It was like flying in a hurricane. Draco angled across the wind. They needed to go south, but the wind blowing from the east kept pushing them steadily southwest. Rain pelted them in buckets and Draco could barely see. They flew over the lake and Draco stayed close to the water in order to have some idea where they were going. If not for the compass on his broom, he would have been lost in moments.

Lightning crackled nearby and Draco laughed with exuberance. Flying in weather like this always got the blood pumping. He looked over his shoulder at Weasley, whose face was so white he looked like he wore a sheet. His red hair was plastered flat against his head and runnels of water trailed down his face. He clenched his hands tightly around the broomstick as he struggled to keep the broom on course.

Weasley glared at Draco and mouthed something that looked like, "You're fucking mental!"

Draco grinned and urged his broom faster to see if Weasley could keep up. The coin in his pocket suddenly heated, surprising him and causing his broom to dip toward the lake for a moment. He steadied it with a curse. _Now_ she wanted to talk to him? He sneered. She'd had her bloody chance.

She tried twice more and then gave up. At long last, Draco spotted the outer wall of Hogwarts and angled the broom up to clear it. Surprisingly, Weasley was still behind him. Draco had half-expected Ron to be in the lake by now. He chalked it up to Potter's superior broom.

He dropped down on the other side of the wall and dismounted lightly. Ron landed much less gracefully and caught himself with a hand just before going face-first into the ground.

"Taking a rest?" Weasley demanded, sounding annoyed even though he was panting from exertion.

"No. You don't expect us to fly all the way there, do you?" Draco asked while combing the wet hair out of his eyes. He nearly had to shout to be heard over the gale.

"Then, how do we get there?"

"_Apparate_, stupid. We just needed to get beyond the school boundary. I'll have to take you through, so don't faint or anything when I touch you. I know I'm the best looking thing that's ever been this close to you, but don't get too excited." Before Weasley could snarl a comment, Draco continued, "Get a grip on Potter's broom, now; he'll kill you if you lose it."

He reached out and clamped a hand on Weasley's shoulder, reflecting for a moment that he really missed _Apparating_ with Granger. Who would have expected _that_ to be an erotic experience? He triggered the spell and in moments they nearly fell over from the sudden lack of wind resistance. There was a breeze, but nothing like the howling storm they had left.

Draco released Weasley immediately and started out toward Spinner's End. He hurried up the embankment and onto the cobbled street without waiting for Ron, who scrambled after him.

The place looked no better in the growing dusk than it did in the daytime. If anything, the rundown, looming houses looked grimmer and even more dilapidated. Ron gaped around in disbelief.

"Snape lives _here_? In this foul place? No wonder he's always so bitter and nasty."

Draco couldn't refute that. Snape's neighbors didn't seem to be the curious sort, for he saw no curtains twitch as they passed between the silent houses and no one peered out to see why two young men with brooms and cloaks traveled through the littered streets.

Draco stopped before Snape's house and handed his broom to Weasley. "I'm going to go inside. If there are Death Eaters, I'll try to send you a signal so you can get the hell out of here."

Before Ron could comment, Draco disappeared. He appeared again inside the musty house. Even more books seemed to have been added since last Draco visited, and they spilled over tables and sofas. He crept carefully through the silent rooms until he was satisfied the place was empty. Then he strode to the front door and flung it open, startling Weasley at the abrupt motion.

"All clear, Weasel."

He turned and lit his wand brightly in order to have some illumination. The light actually made the place seem more dingy.

"This is revolting," Ron said as he leaned the brooms against the wall and shut the door. "I mean, we don't have house-elves, but at least I know how to clean my room."

Draco refrained from comment, realizing that Weasley's room was now a broken jumble of burned planks.

"All right, Weasley, start searching. There are only about five hundred thousand books here."

They split up. Weasley stayed in the parlour, such as it was, while Draco went to search upstairs. It took forever. Although they confined their search to black-covered books, black was apparently Snape's favorite color. Nearly everything in the damned house was black, including the books. Most of the books were, not surprisingly, related to potions. 1001 Uses for Boomslang Skin. Materials Matter: Which Cauldron to Use for Which Potion. Perilous Potions and How to Detect Them. Draco began to yank out various books and set them aside for future reading.

He went through three walls of books and was working on the fourth when he heard the stairs creak. Weasley must have finished the parlour, probably without success. Draco doubted Snape would keep such a book in the front room, anyway. He should have had Weasley start in the bedroom.

Draco glanced toward the door just as the newcomer yelled, "_Accio_ wand!" and Draco's lit wand spun across the room. Just before it went out, Draco caught sight of Alecto Carrow's eager face. Draco tried to throw himself aside, but Amycus's spell slammed into him and he was suddenly frozen. He cursed himself roundly for being so inattentive.

"Look, Amycus. It's baby Malfoy. And we thought he was dead. What you doing here, baby Malfoy?" she crooned.

Amycus sauntered into the room behind his sister.

"What you doin' 'ere, Draco? Snoopin' in Snapey's pad?"

"Yer mummy misses you, baby Malfoy," Alecto said and patted Draco on the cheek. The pat turned into a painful pinch and she murmured, "Yer so _cute_! Can we take 'im home, Amycus? I could chain 'im to me bed awhile."

Amycus wrinkled his nose. "Only if the Dark Lord says you can 'ave 'im. Loose him a bit so we can find out what he's doin' 'ere."

She released the _Body Bind Curse_, but Amycus cast a rope spell before Draco could so much as shift his hand. Draco glared.

"What you doin' 'ere, Draco?" he asked again. "An' where ye been?"

Draco smiled coldly. "That's really none of your business."

"Alecto, 'it 'im." Draco was suddenly enveloped in pain when Alecto cast a _Cruciatus Curse_. The pain was so intense he couldn't find breath enough to scream. Every nerve ending was on fire, as if he had been dipped into lava. The pain ceased suddenly and Alecto laughed when Draco drew a shuddering breath.

"Let's try this again. Answer the question, Draco," Alecto said.

"Go to hell," Draco spat and braced himself as best he could.

"My turn," said Amycus. Agony speared through Draco again. He writhed through a red haze of torment until he wanted to beg for escape. When the pain stopped, he quivered, feeling an ache in his bones that he knew would take hours to dissipate. He opened his eyes and glared at Amycus with pure hatred.

"You're dead," he breathed and Amycus threw back his head and laughed. Draco stared as the laugh was abruptly cut off. Amycus had disappeared. Alecto gasped and a yellow fluttering caught Draco's eye. A bird? Where had that come from?

The shock only last an instant before Draco reached his bound hands toward Alecto and shouted, "_Accio_ wands!" Both wands snapped into his hand. Immediately, he cast a hurricane force wind at Alecto, slamming her into a bookcase with enough power to send books flinging into the room. She collapsed in a limp heap and more books rained down on her from the broken shelves. He spelled the ropes holding him and they fell away. The bird was flying around crazily, twittering and trying to avoid jets of light zinging toward it from Weasley's wand.

Draco staggered to his feet just as the canary turned back into Amycus. Unfortunately for Amycus, he was near the ceiling at the time and instantly plummeted headfirst into the desk below. It erupted into a heap of dust and splintered wood. When the dust settled, Amycus was still. Draco stalked forward and waded into the splinters.

"I. Hate. Being. _Crucioed_!" With each word, he aimed a vicious kick at Amycus's unconscious form. He looked at Weasley, who hadn't moved from the doorway.

"Sorry," Weasley said. "I was in the kitchen when I heard them _Apparate_. I wasn't sure how to warn you."

"That reminds me," Draco said and kicked Amycus once more. "That's for putting me in Weasley's debt." He looked at Ron shrewdly. "What were you doing in the kitchen?"

Ron flushed. "I was hungry. It's long past dinner, you know?"

Draco shook his head, but had to smile. "Saved by Weasley's stomach. If you had been in the parlour when they popped in, it would have been over for both of us."

"We were lucky," Weasley replied. "One of our brooms fell over, so they only noticed the one. They heard you drop a book and they both went up."

"We were very lucky. Mulciber or Lars wouldn't have been so stupid." Draco cast binding spells on the unconscious Death Eaters and _Petrificus Totalus_ to keep them out of trouble.

"Let's find that damned book and get the hell out of here before they send someone to check on these two. I'm finished in here except for that bookcase. If you check that one, I'll do the bedroom."

Weasley nodded and started pulling black books. Draco picked up Amycus's wand from the floor and tucked the Death Eater wands into his robe before he went down the hall to Snape's bedchamber. He lit the fireplace for additional light and looked around in disgust.

No wonder Snape was so unpleasant. There was no way he had ever entertained a woman in this room unless he'd paid her first. A lot. Maybe if the git cleaned up the place a bit, he'd get lucky. And what the hell was up with all the black? If they got out of this alive, he'd have to ask his father to spring for an interior designer. Introduce Snape to the concept of color. Maybe a nice mint green or buttercup yellow…

He shook off the miserable state of Snape's bedroom and love life and started searching the walls of shelves. Within five minutes, he got lucky. He snatched Happy Potions and How to Make Them from its dusty retirement and cracked the cover.

"Excellent," he breathed. Several book bags were hanging from pegs near the door. Draco grabbed a sturdy black canvas bag and tucked the book into it. He slung it over his shoulder and hurried back to the study.

"Got it, Weasley. Let's go."

"Do we just leave them here?" Ron asked.

"Hell no! If they report back to You-Know-Who, my parents are dead. They're coming with us."

Draco hefted Alecto, no easy feat, especially as she was still out cold, and tilted her toward Weasley, who caught her reluctantly.

"Do you know how to _Disapparate_ with a passenger?" Draco asked.

"Only in theory! I've never done it!"

"Well, you're about to get a field lesson. Don't worry. If you splinch her, it won't be much of a loss. _Accio_ brooms!"

Both brooms shot up the stairs and into Draco's hands. "I'll take the brooms and Amycus. Meet me at Hogwarts' front gates." He could tell Weasley wanted to protest, but Draco threw him a quelling look and Ron wisely clamped it.

Amycus's eyes were open and aware, but the _Body Bind Curse_ was holding nicely. Draco knelt down with the brooms in one hand and snatched Amycus's collar in a choke hold.

"Go, Weasley."

Weasley went. As he vanished with Alecto, Draco _Disapparated_.

They appeared back in storm central, although the wind had thankfully died a bit. The rain was hammering down, though. Draco released Amycus and was rather surprised to see that Weasley had made it with Alecto in one piece.

Draco stumbled over to Weasley.

"Get someone out here to open the gates. I don't feel like flying back with this baggage." He nudged Alecto with a toe. Hard. That was an understatement. Draco was so tired he could barely stay on his feet. It had to be past ten p.m. and he hadn't eaten since Hermione's massive breakfast. He had been almost entirely on the move since then, also.

Weasley obediently cast a _Patronus_. It looked like some sort of little dog that shot through the bars and away. Loyal to the core, Weasley was.

The rain trickled down his forehead and Draco conjured an umbrella in annoyance. After a moment, he conjured another and tossed it to Weasley, who muttered something that might have been thanks. Draco cast a _Muffliato_ on both Death Eaters. They didn't need to be privy to Draco's conversation.

"Why did you come after me, back there?" Draco asked in the growing silence. "You could have let them take me and gotten the hell out."

Weasley blinked at him.

"It never occurred to me," Ron admitted.

Gryffindors. Never occurred to him to do the smart thing, just the noble thing. Thank God for Gryffindor stupidity. In this one instance, anyway.

"You would have done the same for me, right?" Weasley continued. Draco considered the question. Would he? Bloody hell, he honestly didn't know. Weasley snorted.

"You're really something, Malfoy, you know that?"

Draco nodded. What that something was, exactly, was still to be determined.

"So, now that you're in my debt, does that mean you owe me a favor?" Weasley continued.

Draco's eyes narrowed.

"That depends. What do you have in mind?"

It was Weasley's turn to consider.

"I'll let you know."

Draco scowled. "I'm sure you will."

"You might want to get his face out of that mud puddle," Weasley commented and shifted his wand toward Amycus. Draco glanced down. Amycus's face was nearly submerged. Draco nudged his chin upward with the toe of his boot. Amycus's eyes burned with venom. Draco grinned. That would teach the bastard to _Crucio_ him.

"They're coming," Weasley said. Three tiny figures could be seen far across the grass. "Oh no! We have to come up with a story. What the hell did we go to Snape's for? We can't tell them about the book."

"To leave a message for my father," Draco said calmly. "You came along because you didn't trust me. I wrote a message and placed it inside a certain book—you read it. The note told them I was fine and not to worry. We were about to leave when these two appeared."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Leave a message for your father?"

Draco scowled. "I wish. A plan that simple would never work. For one thing, my parents are no longer allowed out. For some reason, the Dark Lord doesn't seem to trust them."

"I thought your family was all loyal Death Eaters. What happened?"

"We're plenty loyal as long as it serves the Malfoy interests. My father was willing to follow the Dark Lord as long as his goals were rational. Taking over the Ministry was a worthwhile goal. I mean, look at the way they run things. Fudge was a disgrace, and Scrimgeour is no better. They spend all their time on political backbiting."

"You think You-Know-Who could do a better job?" Weasley asked incredulously.

"Of course not. He's completely deranged. But, Father could."

"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely? Lucius Malfoy, Minister of Magic. Death to all Muggle-borns and blood-traitors."

Draco snorted. "Hardly. My father is not stupid. He doesn't like Muggle-borns, but he would never exterminate half the wizarding world. We all know there aren't many purebloods left. I mean, when I marry, look who I have to choose from. Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, and your sister."

"What?" Ron burst out. "_Ginny_?"

"Don't worry, redheads give me hives. Besides, she hates me more than you do, after that whole Chamber of Secrets incident. I'm sure I'll end up with Pansy, who will make a fine trophy wife as long as I supply her with closets of gowns and bushels of jewels. She hasn't a bloody thought in her head, but at least it won't hurt my eyes to look at her from across the dining table for thirty years, while she tells me all the latest gossip." Draco shuddered. "On second thought, there must be some pureblood girls somewhere in the world. Maybe India."

"Well, I plan to marry the girl I love," Weasley said simply. "No trophy wife, no mansion, just a small house with a nice garden for the kids to play in."

"You're luckier than you know, Weasley. Got the girl picked out already, I suppose?" Draco had his suspicions about that.

Ron flushed. "Maybe I do."

"Have you kissed her, yet?"

"That's none of your business!" Ron flared hotly.

"Translastion: No. Better get a move on, Weasley. We could all die tomorrow, you know."

Draco didn't want to encourage Weasley in his pursuit of Hermione, but if she fell for the Weasel, then it would save Draco from the damnable conflict he had been faced with lately. It was simple self-preservation, really. The three approaching persons could be identified, now. It looked like Potter, Tonks… and Granger.

"She has incredibly sexy underwear," Draco commented. "I'm sure you'll enjoy them."

Weasley gaped at him. "Wha—? Who—?"

"Granger, of course. I assume she's the one you have in mind for your little house, picket fence, passel of brats scenario."

Weasley sputtered incoherently and Draco smirked. Back to normal, just in time.

"How do you know—?"

"Been nice chatting with you, Weasel. Time to go. Upsey daisy, Amycus." He levitated Amycus and propelled him toward the gate just as Tonks reached it. A bit too hard, as it turned out. Amycus's head clanged against the bars. "Whoops, clumsy me."

Tonks opened the gate.

"Whatcha got, cousin? A present for me?"

"They're all yours."

Hermione threw herself through the gate and flung herself at Ron. Draco felt a wrench as Weasley hugged her and shot a smirk at Draco.

"I was so worried! If you ever go off and do something that stupid again I'll hex you and Harry both, I swear I will! You could have been killed!"

She released Ron and turned on Draco. "And _you_! While it doesn't surprise me that you would do something so bloody reckless—!"

"Save it, Granger," Draco said tiredly. "I'm exhausted. You can harangue me tomorrow, but right now I'm going to bed."

He passed Potter's broom to him and took the lead back to the castle, walking quickly. Ron latched onto Hermione and wouldn't release her. Soon the muted sounds of them arguing drifted up to Draco, though he couldn't hear the words.

Harry fell into step beside him while Tonks _Locomotored_ the Death Eaters in their wake.

"You got it?" Harry asked.

Draco unbuckled the book bag and handed it unobtrusively to Harry under the guise of stumbling into him.

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Don't mention it. Except for being _Crucioed_, it was a lark."

Harry blanched.

"Forget it, Potter. I don't blame you. Your Order should be happy to have the Carrows, although they're too stupid to know much. The Dark Lord would never give them important information. They were used only for petty, odd jobs. Pity it wasn't Mulciber or Lars. Then again, if it had been, Weasley and I wouldn't be here." He laughed shortly.

"I'll read this tonight. Hopefully it will give us something to go on."

"Knock yourself out, Potter."

When they got inside, Draco headed instantly for the dungeon. Tonks called to him, "Wait! Lupin is going to have questions!"

"Tomorrow," Draco said and trotted down the steps.

When he reached the bottom, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Malfoy, wait!"

Draco stopped. Couldn't she just leave him in peace? He turned reluctantly to see Hermione hurrying down the steps toward him. To his surprise, she threw her arms around him and molded her soft body against his. Her lips brushed against his ear.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said and pressed a kiss against his cheek. Before he could react, she released him and ran back up the steps. Ron waited for her at the top, and he gave Draco a glare of pure hatred. Draco smiled widely and waved at Weasley.

Maybe it hadn't been such a bad day, after all.


	24. Chapter 24 Friends

**Chapter Twenty Four – Friends**

Hermione went to the library, but found herself unable to concentrate. Harry came to find her.

"It's nearly time for dinner. I need your help to come up with a story about where Ron and Malfoy are," he said hopefully. She glared at him and nearly snapped at him to do it himself. She felt a bit guilty, however. It was probably her fault that Draco had been so determined to leave. If only she had listened to him…

"Well, Malfoy can be hiding out in the Slytherin common room. No one will question that. He didn't even want to be here, so keeping to himself will not be out of character. Ron, however… that could be a bit trickier, especially if his parents are here. Did they go back to Headquarters?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen anyone since lunch, and the only ones I saw then were Lupin and Moody."

"Maybe we can tell them Ron isn't feeling well. He ate too many Cauldron Cakes this afternoon. It wouldn't be the first time, and that story will work on everyone but Mrs. Weasley, who will rush off to check on him if she's here. If that happens, we need a backup plan."

"All right, I'll tell her I sent him off to find something, which would be the truth, but bloody awkward if she asks. I won't be able to tell her where."

"I hate lying to them," Hermione commented.

"So do I, but Dumbledore's orders take precedence over our wishes." Harry smacked a hand down on the table. "I should have gone with them!"

"No, you shouldn't. And leave me here to concoct stories for all of you?" She glared. "I'm the one that should have gone with them. You should have told me, at least."

"I would have, but like I told you, Malfoy was in a bloody rush. He would have gone alone rather than wait five minutes!"

She held up a weary hand. "Let's not have another row over this. We have to pretend everything is fine. After dinner, we should go back to the Pensieve. You need to finish that process as soon as possible. Should they actually find the book, it would be nice to compare that information with whatever Dumbledore has left for you."

Harry nodded, although he looked less than thrilled. Hermione knew that memories were probably hard to deal with. She got up and gave him a quick hug.

"Don't worry. We'll get through this."

He nodded and they went down to the Great Hall together.

Dinner was a grueling affair, made easier only by the fact that none of the Weasleys were in attendance. Bill was working late at Gringott's and his parents had returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place the previous night. Hermione was so worried about Ron and Draco that she couldn't eat more than a few bites and ended up vanishing half her meal when no one was watching.

Moody, as usual, was demanding action and trying to get Lupin to agree to invade Malfoy Manor. He suggested burning it to the ground.

"We are not Death Eaters, Alastor!" Lupin shouted finally. "We do not operate using their methods!"

"Maybe we should!" Moody returned angrily. "If we used a bit more force, maybe they would take notice! Maybe they would stop kidnapping and torturing children!"

Harry nodded, but Hermione agreed with Lupin. They would be no better than Voldemort if they resorted to those tactics.

Lupin did agree to another reconnaissance of Malfoy Manor, but would not budge on the use of force. Moody finally jerked to his feet and stalked out.

"I'll be at the Hog's Head having a drink!" he bellowed as he left. Lupin put his head in his hands. He looked so much older than when Hermione had first met him. She wondered if the pressure of running the Order of the Phoenix was too much for him. Tonks patted him on the back.

"There has to be some way to learn his plans," Lupin said. "Some way that will not get more of us killed."

"We'll figure it out," Tonks said. "Don't take so much on yourself."

"Harry, you don't plan to do anything rash after your birthday, do you?" Lupin asked casually.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily.

"Well, you'll be of age, so none of us will be able to stop you, should you decide to rush off and confront You-Know-Who."

Harry laughed shortly.

"Don't worry. I have no intention of confronting Voldemort alone."

The sincerity in his voice seemed to reassure Lupin, who sat back with a sigh.

"All right." Lupin smiled wanly. "I'll try to stop worrying so much about you."

Harry looked at Hermione and grinned, but his smile was tinged with sadness. Lupin had once been part of a group of excellent friends. They thought they would be together forever. Now, two were dead and one was a traitorous spy… Lupin had none of his former cohorts to turn to. Hermione fervently hoped she would never look back on her school years with such wistful heartache. She suddenly missed Ron terribly.

"Come on," she said to Harry. "Let's go wait for Ron."

They made a stop at McGonagall's office so that Hermione could examine the Pensieve vials. The first was Sirius's memory. The next was Snape telling Dumbledore about the Horcruxes.

"I've seen the next three," Harry said. "Dumbledore showed them to me before. They are Tom Riddle at the orphanage, the history of Riddle's parents, and learning about Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup."

"The next one is labeled 'AD at Borgin and Burkes,'" she said.

"All right, we've got nothing better to do until we hear from Ron. Let's do it. You can come with me this time."

Hermione was a bit apprehensive. She'd heard about Pensieve memories from Harry, but had never actually used one. Harry uncorked the vial and poured it in. He guided Hermione to put her face in the liquid and she gasped when she instantly found herself in the dark, musty confines of Borgin and Burkes. A tall, scruffy-looking white-haired man was examining various goods. He looked familiar, but Hermione couldn't place him. His initials were A. D.? Was he a friend of Dumbledore?

Harry appeared beside her. After a moment, he snapped his fingers.

"It's the barman from the Hog's Head. In Hogsmeade!"

Hermione looked apprehensively from the man to the proprietor, but neither made a sound or movement to denote they had heard Harry's outburst. Harry chuckled.

"Odd, isn't it? Everything looks so real. But, it's just a memory. Nothing we do or say can affect the sequence of events. You know, I don't think I'll ever put my own memories into a Pensieve. I don't think I could stand watching myself make the same mistakes over and over without being able to alter them. You know, there is always something you wish you had said or done differently."

Hermione nodded and for some reason Draco came to mind.

The barman was talking to Mr. Borgin.

"This is all tripe. Where is the good stuff? I need something in particular."

"What is it you are looking for, exactly?"

"I am a collector and I have been searching for Hogwarts' items. I need things from all four founders. I have something of Slytherin's; the man was so egocentric he kept enough crap to stock a museum. I managed to find a trinket of Hufflepuff's and Gryffindor left some moldy clothing behind. But…" The barman leaned forward conspiratorially, "I've yet to find something of Rowena Ravenclaw's. Too smart for her own good, she was. Do you happen to have anything?" Borgin made as though to speak, but the barman raised a hand. "I warn you, do not try to pawn off a false item as hers. I have ways of testing it."

Borgin swallowed and shook his head.

"I once had such an item, but it was taken long ago."

"Taken? What was it?"

"A bracelet." He turned and rooted in a cabinet behind him for a moment. "Here, I have a picture. Magnificent, wasn't it?"

Harry and Hermione leaned close to the barman and peered over his shoulders to view the picture. It was a beautiful bangle bracelet encrusted with sapphires and diamonds. A tiny raven charm dangled from the center.

"And you say this was taken?"

Borgin nodded. "Stolen from our stock. One of our employees, we believe. Many years ago. It was never recovered."

"A pity," said the barman. "You have no other items?"

The proprietor shook his head and tucked the photo back into the file. "Should you run across the bracelet…" The two men looked at each other measuringly and both grinned without humor.

The memory ended and Hermione shook herself. She looked at Harry.

"Well, now we know what the Ravenclaw Horcrux is. We just don't know _where_ it is."

Harry tugged at his hair for a moment. "The barman mentioned he was already in possession of Gryffindor items. You think Dumbledore sent him to Borgin and Burkes? Dumbledore said the only relics of Gryffindor are here in this room." He walked over and looked into the glass case that held the Sword of Gryffindor. "No way in hell this can be a Horcrux. I don't think it was ever out of Dumbledore's sight long enough to be turned into a Horcrux." He gestured at the nearby battered Sorting Hat. "And the hat would have mentioned it." Harry walked over and stood before Dumbledore's portrait.

"I don't suppose you can offer any assistance?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Alas, Harry, I am merely a shadow. But, you are doing fine. Sending for the book is a step in the right direction. Take care not to make the same foolish mistakes I made."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "You mean like trusting Snape?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not regret trusting Severus. The answers are in the Pensieve, Harry."

Harry looked at Hermione, who gasped suddenly.

"Oh no! I just remembered I promised to start another batch of Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin! I'd better do that or it won't be ready next month!"

"All right," Harry said. He looked somewhat dejected.

"One more memory, first," Hermione suggested. He smiled at her and pulled out the next vial.

"Thanks. It's easier with a friend, for some reason."

Hermione didn't recognize the room in which they found themselves. A huge mirror dominated the shadowy place. Dumbledore stood before the mirror and looked into it with an expression of extreme sadness.

"The Mirror of Erised," Harry said quietly. "This is the chamber where they hid the Stone. First year. The place where Quirrell died and I first… fought Voldemort."

Footsteps sounded behind them and they all turned to see Snape approaching.

"So. I was right," Snape said. He did not sound satisfied.

Dumbledore sighed. "You were right."

"He will not be pleased that I helped to thwart him."

"You could not have known. Quirrell did not have the Dark Mark. We had no way of knowing he was being controlled by Voldemort."

"I doubt he will accept that as an excuse."

"Well, we shall have to make certain it never comes into question. If we can stop him from returning, your loyalty will never be an issue." Dumbledore's voice was calm, but his tone bordered on irritated.

Snape shook his head and his black eyes flashed.

"Look how far he got on his first attempt. He very nearly had the bloody Stone."

"It's taken him nearly eleven years to get this far. And he would not have gotten the Stone," Dumbledore said with finality.

Snape nodded. "Oh yes. I had forgotten much of this was set up as a test. To assess the abilities of The Golden Boy. It looks to me as though he won the day through the aptitude of his friends. And a large dose of luck."

"Not luck, but I will agree with you about the friends." Snape raised a scornful lip and Dumbledore chuckled. "You scoff, but I believe Harry's friends will turn out to be his greatest asset."

"Friends and family are liabilities," Snape growled. "They can be used against you."

"It may seem that way to you, simply because you never had a true friend."

"I don't need any friends!" Snape yelled.

"Everyone needs friends. If only you—"

Snape held up a warning hand. "Don't bloody start! I sacrificed a loving family and all chance at a normal life in order to fulfill this destiny that links us. Do not expect me to became mawkish and reach out for friendship, because I neither need nor want it."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It does not have to be this way."

"You are the one disappointed with my inability to _love_. I could care less."

"If you were unable to love, you would not be here fighting Voldemort. You do so because—"

"I do it for _revenge_!" Snape shouted. "Nothing more! Do not prattle at me any longer with your stupid over-emotional ideals!"

"You are still so very young," Dumbledore said and tsked. Hermione thought Snape was going to explode with rage, but he controlled himself with effort. His fists were clenched into white-knuckled balls. When he spoke again, his voice was even. "I see you are in one of your maudlin moods. When you are ready to discuss the true problem, such as Voldemort's next possible move, you know where to find me. I do not think he will wait another eleven years for his next attempt."

With that, he spun on a heel and stalked out.

Dumbledore glanced back into the mirror.

"One day he will discover his true capacities. I only hope by then it will not be too late," he murmured to himself.

Hermione stood before the Pensieve again. Harry looked at her in bewilderment.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked.

"Well, it clears up one mystery. I always wondered if Snape was trying to help Voldemort get the Stone. It seems Dumbledore was right to trust him, at least back then. What do you suppose Snape meant when he said he had sacrificed a loving family?"

"Knowing Snape, he probably meant sacrificed on an altar," Harry said coldly.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. He sounded so… torn. He said he gave up all chance for a normal life. Do you think he stayed at Hogwarts only to stop Voldemort?"

"If so, he hated every minute of it. No wonder he killed Dumbledore."

Hermione frowned. "He spurned Dumbledore's offer of friendship. Why? What would cause him to shut himself off so thoroughly?"

Harry shrugged. "Because, he's pure evil?"

"He can't be evil, or he wouldn't have been trying to stop Voldemort! That was Dumbledore's whole point. Don't you see? He knew there was good in Snape."

"Fat lot of use that did him! There was not enough good to keep Snape from killing Dumbledore in the end, was there? And apparently Snape changed his mind and decided to join up after all, eh?"

"Then, why did he tell Draco about the Horcruxes?"

Harry threw up his hands. "We'll never understand Snape's twisted motives, so why try?"

Hermione chewed a nail thoughtfully. "I don't know. I just have a feeling that Snape's motives play a very large part in this mystery. Why did Dumbledore leave this memory if it wasn't important?"

"He left it so we would trust Snape, but that was _before_ Snape killed him!"

"Will you please stop shouting at me? I really hate it when you do that. Do I bellow at you?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish, but he said petulantly, "Well, it's true."

"I suppose. I need to start this potion. Want to come?"

"No. I'm going back to the common room and wait for Ron."

Hermione had long finished the potion-making process and was back in the common room with Harry when Ron's summons finally came.

"Thank God!" Harry cried when Ron's _Patronus_ dissipated. "They are at the front gates. We need to find someone to let them in."

"Tonks," Hermione said instantly. "She won't ask so many questions. Our stories just got shredded. Are they all right? Why didn't they fly back?"

Harry shrugged. "Ron didn't say."

Hermione sent a quick _Patronus_ message to Tonks, who met them in the Front Hall. They ruefully explained the problem and Tonks shook her head in disappointment. "Remus is going to be so upset with you."

"You don't necessarily have to tell him," Harry suggested hopefully. Tonks leveled a stare at him. Pink hair or not, she suddenly looked very adult and responsible.

"Yes, I necessarily do," she said coldly. Harry flushed and sighed.

"Fine. Let's just go get them and I'll face the firing squad when we get back."

When they reached the gates, Hermione felt almost faint with relief to find both Ron and Draco alive and unharmed. She was surprised to see the two bound Death Eaters, however, and threw an I-Told-You-So look at Harry, who managed to ignore her. When Tonks opened the gate, Hermione rushed out and threw herself at Ron. Before she could stop herself, she began to scold him for being so foolish. She next turned on Draco, who cut her short. He looked completely exhausted. She took a concerned step toward him, but he turned and began to stalk quickly toward the castle. She would have gone after him, but Ron snatched at her arm.

"Don't even think about it," he warned.

"Think about what?" she asked.

"I really don't care for the way you just looked at Malfoy," Ron said peevishly.

Hermione's blood froze.

"What are you talking about?" she snapped. She tried to pull away, but Ron held on tightly. They trailed after the others and Harry hurried to walk with Malfoy while Tonks juggled the floating Death Eaters with her wand.

"I'm starting to think you actually care about that git," Ron snarled. "I just saved his bloody life and I'm beginning to regret it."

"You saved Malfoy's life?" She tried not to sound disbelieving. Ron glared at her.

"You think I'm a complete screw-up, don't you?"

"I never said that!"

"You were thinking it. I bet you yelled at Harry mercilessly for letting 'poor, useless Ron go off and nearly get himself killed. He can barely cast a proper spell. I'm surprised he didn't fall off his broom halfway across the lake.'"

"I never said anything of the sort!" she snapped. "Now, let go of me."

"So you can hurry off and kiss Malfoy again?" Ron yelled. His face was suffused with rage. She stopped in amazement and wondered why he was so angry. What had Draco told him? More lies? Or potentially more damaging, the _truth_? Ron released her.

"Why are you so angry? Malfoy already told you why he kissed me."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I actually believed it, at first."

"Well, you know how effortless it is for him to twist things around. You've always been an easy mark."

His blue eyes narrowed. "Stupid Ron, always falling for Malfoy's lies."

"Stop doing that!" she shouted.

He took her arm again. "Come on. We're going to have a nice little chat about you and Draco Malfoy." He tried to drag her toward the castle, but she dug in her heels. They had a moment's tug-of-war with her arm until she drew her wand and cast a stinging hex on his hand. He yanked it back with a yelp and put the red area to his mouth.

"Don't you ever manhandle me again!" she hissed. "I've been worried about you the entire time you were gone and then you come back and act like some sort of jealous Neanderthal! When you decide to start acting like a human being again, I will consent to have that little chat with you. Until then, you can stay the bloody hell away from me!"

She hurried after the others and up the steps into the Front Hall. She caught sight of Draco's silvery head disappearing down the dungeon steps and ran after him. He tensed when she called to him, but he stopped and waited for her. When he turned, Hermione threw her arms around his neck and clung to him for a moment, wishing she had never brought him here. She longed for a private moment to talk to him. His arms stayed limp as she held him and she wondered if he would ever allow her to get close to him again.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said lamely, leaving volumes unspoken. She pressed her lips against his check and then turned and ran back up the steps. She met Ron's furious gaze with a raised brow that dared him to comment. He said nothing; merely fell into step beside her as they headed for the main staircase.

The third floor landing was dark and Ron took her arm, gently this time, to guide her up the darkened steps.

"Thanks," she said shortly.

"Hermione?" he asked quietly. He stopped walking and she took a few more steps before turning around to look at him with a tired sigh.

"Yes, Ron?" she asked.

"I've been thinking about something Malfoy said to me."

"I never would have guessed," she said dryly. Ron moved up to stand on the step below hers. He still had to look down at her a bit; she noted with some surprise that he was as tall as Draco. Without warning, Ron reached out and caught her shoulders, and then he leaned down and kissed her. For a moment, she was beyond shocked and her first bemused thought was that she hadn't been kissed in months and now… twice in one day. Who was next? Harry?

She relaxed and tried not to compare Ron's kiss to Draco's, but it was impossible. It was strange, but she had thought about kissing Ron dozens of times; she had nearly done so, in fact, when they had studied together in the common room. The timing had just never been right, and she had been too afraid of it ending their friendship. She wished now that she had done so. Maybe, if she had kissed him long ago, their relationship might have grown into something deeper. Ron's lips on hers were soft and gentle, somewhat demanding, but she felt none of the wild excitement that Draco's kiss had provoked. She didn't feel weak in the knees. She didn't feel cold and hot at the same time. She felt nothing but a growing sadness. Ron released her reluctantly.

"He told me I should do that," he said simply and continued up the stairs without another word.

Hermione sank down on the step. _He told me I should do that._ Draco Malfoy told Ron he should kiss her. She felt like tearing her hair out by the roots in frustration. When had her life become the complicated mess she suddenly found herself in? She nodded ironically. Oh yes. The moment she had _Apparated_ in Dover and discovered the fantasy man of her coin conversations to be none other than Draco Malfoy. Did she even see the real Draco? Was she still projecting her fantasies onto him, trying to turn him into something he wasn't?

She thought about Malfoy's kiss and a rush of warmth flooded over her senses. She groaned and buried her head in her hands. That kiss had been no fantasy. But why did it have to be Draco she responded to and not Ron? It was completely unfair. She sighed and got to her feet in determination.

She would just have to ignore them both. They had a job to do and emotional complications would only get in the way.


	25. Chapter 25 The Sons of Horus

**Chapter Twenty Five – The Sons of Horus**

Harry stayed in the common room to peruse the book, but Hermione was both physically and emotionally tired. She went straight to bed and managed not to have any dreams, for which she was utterly grateful.

She hurried down and had breakfast with McGonagall, John Williamson, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. She realized her mistake as soon as she sat down and they began to swamp her with questions about where Draco and Ron had found the Carrows. She baffled them by protesting complete innocence (which was mostly true) and insisting she had no knowledge of how they had captured the Death Eaters (which was absolutely true) and suggested they wait until Ron awoke for answers. Ron appeared shortly thereafter with a bizarre story that they had gone to Snape's house to leave a message for Draco's father. Hermione nearly clapped a hand to her forehead at the ridiculous story, but luckily the truth about the Death Eaters' arrival buried the tall tale.

Hermione was impressed at Ron's quick thinking, but made a mental note to find out exactly how he had turned Amycus Carrow into a canary. She was certain she knew all of Ron's spells, but she had never heard of that particular one. More Order members drifted down to eat, forcing Ron to repeat his story. Hermione finished eating and took a plate up for Harry, knowing he wouldn't be missed in the excitement of Ron's tale.

Harry was immersed in the book. He looked up gratefully when she entered and grabbed a croissant from the tray.

"This is the most bloody confusing thing. It doesn't help that the type makes you go cross-eyed if you look at it too long. See if you can make heads or tails of it."

She sat down next to him and took the book. It was written in an archaic style with maddening Dark Arts typeset that gave her a headache after five minutes. She rubbed her temples.

"There's a spell to diminish the effects of the typeset, but I can't recall where I even saw it. Probably one of the books at Grimmauld Place."

"Dark magic to counter dark magic," Harry said. "Does any of it make sense?"

"Well, I skimmed over the part where it talks about creating the Horcruxes. There isn't much about destroying them, of course. It does give an incantation, thank goodness, but it talks about invoking the 'Sons of Horus' and making an offering to Shu. Egyptian, right? This is old, old magic." She looked at Harry. "Have you ever seen any references to Egypt in the library? I certainly haven't! No wonder we couldn't find any information on Horcruxes." She was indignant. The library had failed her. "I'll do another search, but I may have to go home and look in a Muggle library."

She looked at the book awhile longer, seeking additional clues, but the reference to the Sons of Horus seemed to be the key bit of information. She finally pushed it aside.

"Enough. I need to go to the library. You?"

Harry set his tray aside. "The usual. Back to the Pensieve. I think I'll wait for Ron, though. Two heads are better than one when assessing memories."

"He might be awhile. He's telling his exciting story of rescue." She flushed slightly, thinking about Ron.

"What?" Harry asked perceptively.

"It's Ron. He grabbed me on the stairs last night and kissed me."

Harry grinned hugely. "You're kidding!" He laughed. "All right, Ron. It's about time."

She shook her head, annoyed. "It's not all right. And it's not about time, either. It's too late, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't feel anything, Harry," she admitted miserably. He looked puzzled.

"What are you supposed to feel? It was just a kiss, right?"

She almost laughed. What are you supposed to feel? Well, she wouldn't have known before, would she? She would never have guessed what a simple kiss could make you feel… until Malfoy.

"You're supposed to feel like you're the only two people in the world. Like everything around you could crumble to dust and you wouldn't even notice. Like you're drowning, but clinging to a lifeline at the same time. Like you're burning and freezing at once." She trailed off.

Harry stared at her in amazement. "Seriously? I've never felt anything like that. Kissing Cho… well, it was nice, but it certainly wasn't… what you said."

"Neither was kissing Viktor. Nor Ron," she said ruefully.

His green eyes narrowed.

"Wait a minute, if neither Ron nor Viktor made you feel all drowning and things, then how do you know you're supposed to… no bloody way. Tell me you did not feel like that when—"

"Don't be silly," she said briskly. "We'd better get to that Pensieve so I can get started on my fruitless search for Egyptian information. Are you finished eating?"

"Yes. Hermione, I think we really need to talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about. The only thing that matters is that Ron is not hurt. I can only hope he felt the same last night."

"You mean—nothing?"

"Exactly. Nothing."

"I give that about a one percent chance of accuracy," he said dryly. Her heart sank at his words. Those were about the odds she calculated, as well.

The next Pensieve memory took place in Snape's office. Dumbledore seemed to be angry when he strode in.

"Did you know?" he demanded when Snape looked up from his desk. "Did you know Tom Riddle's diary was a Horcrux?"

Snape huffed. "Of course not. I never even saw the bloody thing. I didn't know it existed."

"Why would he give it to Lucius?"

"He loved Lucius. The only two he trusted were Lucius and Bellatrix. If he wanted something kept for him, he would have given it to one of them."

Dumbledore sank into a chair before his desk. His anger seemed to have melted into frustration.

"I never would have expected a diary," he admitted. "It makes sense, of course, for him to use something personal, but it worries me. It worries me greatly."

Snape sat forward. "Well, we had eleven bloody years of peace in which to find and destroy these Horcruxes and how many have we destroyed?" Snape slammed a fist down on the desk. "Now, we're running out of time."

Dumbledore glared at him. "We've been searching."

"_I've_ been searching! You've been doing God-knows-what, concentrating so much on this bloody school—"

"This school holds the future of the wizarding world!" Dumbledore said coldly.

"There will not _be_ a future of the wizarding world if we do not stop him!" Snape thundered, half-rising and leaning over his desk.

Dumbledore massaged his temples with long fingers.

"I know," he said tiredly. "I have let time slip away from me. It moves so quickly these days…"

"Let us dispense with the regretful trips down memory lane and concentrate on the problem at hand. The Horcruxes are the least of our worries, at the moment. We've got to prevent him from obtaining a body."

Dumbledore waved a dismissing hand at Snape's suggestion.

"We know what to look for, now. If he attempts to possess—"

"Don't be stupid!" Snape barked. "I'm not talking about possession! I'm talking about obtaining flesh! A new body. It can be done. I'm sure he's working toward that end."

"He cannot cast such a spell in the state he is in," Dumbledore scoffed. "And his loyal servants are all in our custody."

"Your overconfidence is inspiring," Snape said sarcastically.

Dumbledore laughed. "I do hope so. At least Lucius managed to aid us, albeit unwittingly. One Horcrux has been destroyed."

"Thanks to the overwhelming luck of The Chosen One."

"It was more than luck that allowed a second-year to defeat a basilisk."

"Yes, it was Godric Gryffindor's sword."  
"The sword did not wield itself, my friend."

"I have no wish to sit here and listen to you prattle on about the merits of a boy who can't even brew a simple potion without help from his Mudblood girlfriend."

Dumbledore's face hardened.

"I have asked you to refrain from using that terminology in my presence."

Snape's teeth bared in a caricature of a smile.

"Sorry," he said. "Force of habit. Bad upbringing, you know." He didn't sound the least bit apologetic. Hermione shook her head. It was bad enough when purebloods like Malfoy used such slurs, but it was incomprehensible when half-bloods like Snape and Tom Riddle did so.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, sounding unconvinced. He got to his feet.

"I'll never change, you know," Snape said suddenly. "Not really."

Dumbledore smiled beatifically. "The mere fact that you mention it makes it possible."

Snape shook his head and sighed as Dumbledore started out. "Blind old fool."

Hermione looked at Harry in puzzlement.

"Bloody hell," Harry said. "Every memory is more confusing than the last."

"Snape warned him about Voldemort acquiring a body. He didn't listen."

Harry nodded, looking sick. "Two years before it happened. _Two years_."

"And what about that warning at the end? 'I'll never change.' Was he telling Dumbledore that he was still a Death Eater?"

"How could he be and yet help Dumbledore try to stop Voldemort? Everything about Snape is a contradiction."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore's portrait, but Dumbledore was gone. Hermione grinned ruefully. Probably wanted to avoid any questions brought on by that particular memory. Harry went over and looked at the vials.

"The next one is right after we saved Sirius and Buckbeak. When we found out about Wormtail."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not ready for anything related to that terrible night. Not at the moment, anyway. Come to the library with me. Maybe I missed some books on Egypt simply because I was never looking for them. We never thoroughly went through the Restricted Section, either."

Harry returned the vial. "All right."

Draco awoke slowly and stretched. He felt a twinge in his neck and painfully recalled why he hated sleeping on the beds at Hogwarts. He missed his pillow-soft feather bed at home. Hell, he missed everything about being at home. His bed, his clothes, his comfortable fur-lined slippers, his scalding baths, his lazy breakfasts in bed…

He propped his arms behind his head and wondered what time it was. The Gryffindors definitely had an advantage there. In the dungeon, it was always night. Great for sleeping, not so great for waking up at a decent hour. For all he knew, it was past noon. He felt pretty good, so it was more than likely he'd gotten enough sleep. He tugged his wand out from under his pillow and lit all the lamps in the room. It dispelled the gloom, but didn't brighten the place much.

He wondered if Potter and Granger had sorted out the book. He grinned at last night's memory of Hermione, although he had to wonder why she had run down and kissed him. Merely to annoy Ron? Frankly, he also wondered why she was no longer giving him the cold shoulder. She had been so enraged outside Hagrid's hut; he assumed she would never speak to him again. Mercurial, was Granger.

He reached over to the bedside stand and picked up her Galleon.

_What time is it?_ he asked

His coin warmed instantly.

_You're calling me for a time check?_

_You expected me to call for a different reason?_

_No. It's nearly 11 am. I thought you might sleep all day._

_Maybe you should have awakened me._

_I don't know the Slytherin password._

_It's _apple_. Would you have used it?_

_Apple?_

_Yes. Garden of Eden? Adam and Eve? Wicked serpent? Apple._

_I see. No, I probably wouldn't have used it._

Draco walked the coin across his knuckles for a moment and then asked, _Will you use it now?_ He winced as soon as the message was sent. Why had he asked that? He considered the question. Simple, he just wanted to ask her about the book without Potter and Weasley butting in with their annoying commentary. That's all.

_You want me to come down there?_

_Yes._

There was a very long pause. He grinned to think of her little mind spinning and spinning with questions and concerns. Would her intelligence win out over her trusting nature? Would Gryffindor boldness triumph over demure reticence?

_All right. I'll meet you in your common room._

Draco laughed aloud. He would have bet on Gryffindor boldness any day of the week.

It took her less than ten minutes. He hoped she had left Weasley with his jaw agape as she bolted. She would have had to run from the Gryffindor common room. Of course, at this time of day, she had probably been elsewhere.

"Malfoy?" she called from the common room.

"I'm in here," he replied.

"Well, come out."

"No. You come in here."

He fully expected her to argue with him for awhile, so he was quite surprised when she appeared in the doorway with a wary expression on her face. She was dressed in a school uniform today, except the vest and tie were missing and the white blouse was casually open at the neck. No heavy robes, either. Draco had never expected to find the Hogwarts uniform sexy, but she looked surprisingly fetching. Maybe it was just his memory of what she wore underneath…

"You look like a naughty schoolgirl," he said huskily. She flushed.

"I'm neither naughty nor a schoolgirl, at the moment. I simply forgot to bring any clothing from home. I've asked Mrs. Weasley to send my things from… from the Headquarters of the Order. Until they arrive, I'm stuck wearing this. How long do you plan to stay in bed?"

"Until you come over here and wake me properly."

She scowled. "Sorry, I don't have a pitcher of ice water to toss on your head. I'll conjure one if you'd like." She walked over and sat on the bed usually occupied by Crabbe. "So. What did you want to tell me yesterday? When I refused to listen?"

Draco shook his head.

"Oh no. You missed your chance on that one. Besides, I've forgotten."

She gave him a measuring look and absently reached into her shirt. She toyed with the coin, sliding it up and down the chain. Draco waited. There was something on her mind, obviously. He grinned when she blurted with typical Gryffindor bluntness, "Why did you tell Ron to kiss me?"

Draco's brows shot up. "Did he?"

She nodded and Draco chuckled. "Well, well, well. He _was_ listening. Not quite as stupid as we all thought, is Weasley?"

"I never thought Ron was stupid. Answer the question."

"I didn't think he'd actually do it," Draco admitted with a grin.

"With you goading him into it? How could he not?"

"So, how was it?"

Hermione flushed again. "It was good. Fine. Excellent. Very exciting."

"God, you really are the most atrocious liar."

She leaped to her feet and her chin snapped into the air stubbornly.

"I was not lying!"

"A bit better, but still not convincing. Try again."

She gave him a venomous glare and began to pace next to the bed.

"You are, without a doubt, the most irritating—"

"How was _my_ kiss?"

Her words choked off as if he'd strangled her. The flush that tinted her cheeks most deliciously answered his question better than anything she might have said. She had to clear her throat before she could speak, and even then her words were barely audible.

"Horrid. Nasty. Worst kiss ever," she whispered. Draco laughed throatily.

"Really? Well, damn me. I'd better try again."

He reached out quick as a striking snake and grabbed her wrist. She pulled back with a gasp, but he drew her inexorably toward him. She shook her head in denial, but he gave a quick heave and yanked her off balance. She fell on top of him and he released her wrist to wrap both hands tightly in her curls.

"Don't!" she breathed. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but she froze when he tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips against his. The kiss he'd given her on the stairs had been a childish peck compared to the assault he launched upon her now. There would be no interruptions, so he took his time and savored every tormenting instant. He tasted her somewhat gently at first, to lull her into relaxing, and was surprised when it worked better than expected. His lips playfully teased hers, tender and undemanding. With a soft sigh, she melted against him. He was wary of a trick, so did not release his grip. He deepened the kiss, teasing her mouth open and sliding his tongue inside to touch hers lightly. She inhaled sharply and he smiled against her mouth. After that, he was ruthless. He tasted, sucked, nibbled, and played with every part of her mouth; lips, tongue, and teeth until she whimpered mindlessly and writhed against him.

Somewhere along the way, he lost all control. Hermione wasn't passive. She returned his kiss with her own, matching tease for tease, taste for taste. Her hands, hot and silken, caressed his bare chest. It was exquisite torment. His own hands were tangled helplessly in her hair, though he strove to free them in order to slide them down to her body, sprawled across his in senseless abandon. He needed to touch her.

He tore one hand free suddenly and she gasped when several strands of hair went with it. She pulled back to stare at him through eyes glazed with passion. Her chest labored against his as she struggled to breathe normally. Draco's hand, free at last, tugged sharply at her blouse and then slipped beneath it. He caressed the satiny skin of her back and she arched against him with a gasp. Hot desire filled his senses with a rush that was physically painful. He moved his other hand, trying desperately to free it so he could move the offending materials out of the way—clothing and sheets—he would tear them away if he had to.

He realized his mistake in an instant. The fevered kiss that had kept her in thrall had been broken. Freed from the delightful stimulus, her mind began to function again.

"What… what am I doing?" she breathed. Before he could stop her, she heaved herself off of him, leaving behind a substantial length of hair still twisted in his fingers. She backed away quickly and sat down hard on Crabbe's bed. Her brown eyes were wide with disbelief. Her hair was disheveled and her lips were swollen. Her shirt was askew and half out of her skirt. God, he wanted her.

He shut his eyes and struggled for control. He took several deep, steadying breaths and fought the heat that strove to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists and stilled himself against the urge to throw himself across the intervening space and press her down upon Crabbe's bed…

Control. Control. Control. He chanted the word until he felt calm returning. He opened his eyes and slanted them at her with a smirk guaranteed to infuriate her.

"How was it that time?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"There are no words," she said quietly. He laughed sardonically. He couldn't accuse her of lying that time. She stood up and walked quickly to the door, out of his reach, he knew. She tucked her shirt carefully back into her skirt and ran her hands across her hair in an attempt to smooth it. When she spoke again, her voice was calm.

"If you've quite finished tormenting me, it's time to get up. We would like your opinion on some information found in the book. I'll wait for you out here."

She went out and he stared after her in bemusement. So, she planned to pretend that nothing had happened. Maybe she thought he was just playing a game. Was he? He thought about her lying across him, kissing him, touching him… He drew a ragged breath. No. Not a game. He had been trying to teach her a lesson and received one himself. Don't play with fire.


	26. Chapter 26 Cryptic Messages

**Chapter Twenty Six – Cryptic Messages**

Hermione walked into the Slytherin common room and tried not to think. The room was decorated much like the Gryffindor common room—same style sofas, chairs, and tables, but all in green with silver trim. The lack of windows and natural light was disturbing.

She heard him shuffling in the other room and tried not to think about him getting dressed. She wondered if he had even worn anything to bed. The thought made her feel hot and panicky.

Don't think about it, she ordered herself, don't even start.

He sauntered out and she felt her heart leap into her throat. She shut her eyes and pictured a cold mountain lake. Edged in ice. With snowflakes falling. She took a deep, steadying breath.

"Feeling all right?" he asked casually. His sardonic tone actually helped calm her nerves.

"Never better," she said brightly and smiled sweetly at him. He gave her a measuring look and then shrugged. Her eyes skimmed over him quickly, taking in his white shirt—unbuttoned halfway down his chest, damn him; black pants, and usual black boots. He noticed her gaze and grinned ruefully.

"It seems I'm stuck with school clothes, too. Maybe we should go shopping."

"I could _Transfigure_ something for us. I just wasn't in the mood this morning."

"Shopping is more fun," he insisted.

"You want to go shopping?" she asked derisively. "With me?"

"Absolutely. Lingerie, first."

She clenched her jaw in annoyance. Not even five minutes and he had her blushing scarlet again.

"That will be the end of that conversation," she decided. He laughed.

"All right, Granger. I'll stop 'tormenting' you. What did you and Potter find out?"

She was relieved—and a bit disappointed, though she shoved that thought aside angrily—that he was willing to move on to business. She watched him as he walked to the huge fireplace and examined his reflection in a small mirror propped on the mantle. His silver-blonde hair was perfect, as usual. He moved with a stunning grace that made her ache just to watch him. She turned away quickly, wishing she had never come down here. What had possessed her to seek out the wolf in his den?

She put a shaking hand to her hair and winced when she touched the tender spot on her head where she had torn her locks free. She glanced at him again and he turned to look at her with that maddening grin of his. Simply put, she had wanted to see him. She had rationalized that she wanted to question him about their trip to Snape's house, but in all honesty, it wasn't true. If she were completely candid with herself, she had been half-hoping what had happened would happen. She blushed, recalling his hands in her hair, his demanding mouth on hers, his—

"Over-analyzing again, Granger?" Draco asked dryly. She stared at him in surprise. How could he know her so well already?

"No," she said pertly. "I was thinking about the book." Her gaze dared him to say anything about lying.

"Really? I didn't realize secrets of immortality were such a racy subject. That's quite a pretty blush you've got there."

The blush darkened, to her chagrin. She had to stop thinking about him! He had only kissed her to prove a point. To show her that he could be utterly irresistible when he chose. To prove that raw passion could override common sense and every other rational thought… God, she was doing it again.

"I was not over-analyzing. I was merely thinking," she snapped. He was moving toward her, so she quickly walked to put the couch between them. She didn't dare get too close to him. He laughed.

"I'm not going to pounce on you."

She ignored that and remembered the question he had asked long minutes ago.

"The book is difficult to read. I know there is a spell to diminish the effects of the wavering text, but I have no idea what it is."

"I do."

She nodded. It was probably taught to Malfoys as soon as they learned to read.

"We deciphered a bit of it, though. It references something called the Sons of Horus. Have you ever heard of them?"

He began to casually stalk her around the sofa. She pretended not to notice, but she drifted sideways to keep the large piece of furniture between them. She tried to shake off the image of a hunting panther, but his grey eyes were gleaming mischievously.

"No."

"It also says to make an offering to Shu."

Draco stopped. "Shu? Now, that sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?"

"It's most likely Egyptian. Some sort of god, I assume, since it requires an offering."

Draco's brow wrinkled in thought, but he started moving again, quickly this time. She gave up all pretenses and bolted behind the couch.

"Will you keep still?" she demanded. He chuckled.

"Why are you running from me? Are you afraid I'll kiss you again?"

God, yes! She shook her head, knowing if she spoke aloud he would see right through her lie.

"If I promise not to try to kiss you, will you stay there?" he asked. She looked at him through narrowed eyes, searching for a trick, but she couldn't see a downside.

"Yes," she said shortly. Surprisingly, he didn't smirk at her. She held her ground, barely, as he rounded the sofa and stood before her. She realized her mistake immediately. He didn't even need to touch her. His nearness was enough to send warning bells jangling through every nerve ending. The masculine scent of him filled her senses and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to think of anything else but her ridiculous urge to wrap her arms around his neck…

"Isn't this better?" he asked. "It's so much easier to talk without a huge gap between us."

Talk. Yes. She opened her eyes and swallowed hard. He had reduced the gap, for certain. He stood so close to her if she leaned forward a bit, she would be pressed up against him. Almost, she stepped back, but her Gryffindor pride suddenly reared its head and she raised her chin stubbornly.

Her resolve lasted all of six seconds, until he reached up and touched her hair gently with both hands. His thumbs massaged her head where the hair had been pulled.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly. She noted with alarm that she was forgetting to breathe and pulled in a shaky breath.

"No," she whispered. The word was both a response and a request. He smiled down at her and her eyes slid over his features. He was so beautiful. Pale and smooth as porcelain. She dug her fingernails into her palms to fight the urge to reach up and caress the even line of his jaw.

His hands suddenly became brisk in her hair. He tugged and twisted it in a businesslike manner.

"You're a mess," he said. "We'd better fix you up a bit or Weasley will suspect you've been rolling around in the sack with me." She glared at him when he laughed and continued, "Of course, he'd be right, for once."

"Can we just go?" she asked sharply. The thought of Ron had assaulted her with guilt. Draco sighed.

"If you insist."

He stepped away from her and drew on the black cloak that had been tossed upon the back of the sofa. In the same motion, he seemed to pull an invisible curtain about himself. His armor, she knew. She had figured it out in Hagrid's hut, why Draco was so different when he was alone with her. The wall of ice, disdain, and sarcasm was missing. Since Dover, it had slowly melted away, exposing the real Draco—the human, vulnerable Draco that he kept under such tight control. The one that refused to let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

He looked at her seriously.

"I need to send a message to my parents. I've been thinking about it since the lie we concocted yesterday. It won't be easy, but it can be done. I'll need your help."

Hermione nodded.

"I'll ask them where Regulus Black died. We'll do it tonight. Here, if you aren't afraid to be alone with me again."

"I'm not afraid of you," she said adamantly.

He laughed in what sounded like sheer delight. "Liar. Let's go have a look at that book." He gestured fluidly toward the exit and she gratefully went.

Ron was in the library with Harry when they entered and he shot a suspicious glare at them both.

"Any luck?" she asked. Harry shook his head.

"You were right. Not much of anything Egyptian in this place."

"That's just great. By the time we figure out what the Sons of Horus are, we may have collected all the Horcruxes. With no idea how to destroy them."

"Sons of Horus?" Ron asked. "I know what they are."

Three pairs of astonished eyes turned to him.

"Why is that such a bloody surprise?" he demanded. "I went to Egypt with my parents, remember? The Sons of Horus are the jars they use for the body parts in the tomb. They are supposed to protect the entrails on the Pharoah's journey to the afterlife."

Hermione gasped. "The Canopic Jars!"

Ron nodded. "That's it. Canopic. They were placed at the four corners—north, south, east, and west."

"I just remembered who Shu is," Draco said quietly. Hermione looked at him. "The god of wind, sunlight… and protection."

Hermione hurried to look over Harry's shoulder at the book.

"I think I know what it means!" she said happily. "The Sons of Horus is a reference to the four quarters! An offering to Shu… it's a circle of protection." She shook her head. "This is heavy. No simple spell; this is ritual magic. Ancient and powerful."

"The same magic used to create the damned thing," Draco said.

Hermione looked at Harry shrewdly. "Didn't Dumbledore say he destroyed the ring alone?"

Harry nodded. She continued, "I'll bet he dispensed with the ritual and tried to destroy it himself. He told you not to make the same mistake. We'd better do it correctly. None of us wants a withered hand—or worse. I wish we could find some information on the names of the Sons of Horus. It would be nice to do this according to the book, but we may have to improvise. Harry, get me whatever you can find on casting a circle, since none of us has ever done it before—"

"I have," Draco said nonchalantly.

"I don't even want to know why. Fine, then Malfoy can look for that information. Try to remember, this will be white magic, not the Dark Arts. Protection is the key word. You might also read the Horcrux section in the book. Maybe you can find something we missed. Harry, you find a way to invoke the elements. There are dozens of spells, so I'm certain you can find one that's appropriate. Ron, we need to find a place to do this. Somewhere we won't be interrupted. I suggest we do it at midnight. No one will be looking for us and the time seems appropriate. I'll start gathering some of the items we'll need, from what I can remember. If you find anything else we have to have, we can collect it later."

There was no argument, so she smiled and went out. It felt good to be doing something, rather than sitting around blindly searching for information. The weather was calm again, as she discovered when she headed for the greenhouse. The storm had blown itself out, leaving everything clean and wet. The sky was cloudless.

Inside the greenhouse, she took a basket from near the door and used her wand to cut sprigs of various plants: Angelica, basil, horehound, mistletoe, and nettles. She would stop by Snape's former storeroom to pick up myrrh and frankincense. At least they didn't have to sneak into there any longer. She hurried back inside and stored everything safely in the Gryffindor common room. She was surprised when the coin warmed on her chest and she looked at it quickly.

_We're in the Great Hall. Your werewolf friend popped in and invited us for lunch. Ordered us to lunch, I should say._

_Thanks. I'll be right there._

Lupin was probably wondering what they were all up to. He had to know they wouldn't be sitting idly around waiting for something to happen. She checked her watch. They had a full afternoon to prepare for the ritual, plus she needed to help Draco contact his parents.

Moody was having another tirade when she arrived. Apparently, he had just returned from Malfoy Manor and he was not pleased. In fact, he was yelling in Draco's face.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, I say!" he bellowed. "Now, where did they go, boy? I can cast a _Cruciatus_ just as well as your ilk!"

Draco's eyes were frigid. He and Moody faced each other across a hand span's distance.

"Do it," Draco dared. Moody's wand jerked upward and pressed into Draco's chin with a snap. Malfoy's jaw clenched, but he gave no other sign of emotion. Hermione ran forward, but Lupin got to them first. He grabbed Moody's wand hand.

"Stop it, Alastor! Leave him be!"

"You're shielding Death Eaters now, Remus?" Moody snarled.

"He's no Death Eater and it's not his fault that they have moved on. You should have known that would happen the moment they pulled Neville out. We have the Carrows in custody because of Draco."

Moody's false eye swiveled in Lupin's direction.

"The Carrows?"

"Draco and Ron captured them at Snape's house last night."

Moody lowered his wand, but looked at Draco coldly.

"I'm watching you, boy. You'd better keep your nose clean."

Draco sneered, an expression Hermione hadn't seen in so long it nearly looked out of place. Moody moved off, peppering Lupin with questions about interrogating Amycus and Alecto. Hermione put a hand on Draco's arm.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Apparently, Voldemort has vacated my house. Your barmy friend is a bit upset."

"Do you know where they might have gone?"

"No idea."

She nodded. "It doesn't matter. Let the Order locate them. We have our own business to attend to."

Draco returned to his seat and Hermione sat next to him, across from Harry, who looked at her, but made no comment. She snapped her fingers.

"Salt. We need salt."

Harry passed her a salt cellar, but she shook her head. "For tonight. A lot of it."

"I'll stop by the kitchen on the way out. Here's Ron."

Ron sat down next to Hermione and grinned at her. He ignored Draco completely.

"I think I know where we can do this," he murmured as he put a slab of bread on his plate and topped it with a selection of meats and cheeses. "Harry gave me the idea when he told me about one of the Pensieve memories. Remember that chamber where they hid the Stone? The one accessed by the trapdoor on the third floor?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course. It's perfect."

"I checked it out. It's empty now and there are no bloody traps on the way like Devil's Snare or life-sized chess pieces. I don't think anyone's used it, since. It's pretty dusty."

"Add a broom to our list of supplies," Hermione mentioned. "A cleaning broom, not a flying broom. Anyone know where we can get holy water?"

"Sure," Harry said. "Snape's storeroom. I saw some in there, once. It's in a silver flask."

"Excellent. I was afraid that was one item we would have to do without. Plain water will work, but holy water is better. Did you two have any luck?" she asked, looking at Harry and Draco. Harry shook his head.

"Lupin came in shortly after you left. I was still hunting for the right book."

Draco grinned. "I don't need a book. I already know how to cast a circle. _And_ invoke the elements, although I agree you may want to get more specific with this one. Don't forget the offering to Shu. I recommend the usual: bread, beer, beef, and fowl. Perhaps oil. And fine linen for an altar cloth. And an altar, of course."

"Where will we find fine linen?" Ron asked.

"The Staff Room. They have a stockpile in a cabinet there," Draco mentioned.

"How do you… never mind. I'll take your word for it. Harry, you get the salt and find that incantation. Malfoy can grab the linen, since he's familiar with the Staff Room. I'll go back and get the holy water from Snape's supplies. Ron, go with Harry and pick up the food items."

She noticed Tonks shooting them a glance now and again from where she sat next to McGonagall and Lupin.

"They're getting suspicious," she mentioned quietly. "They don't trust us after Ron and Malfoy's little trip."

"Well, they seem to expect me to sneak off and confront Voldemort at any moment. Not that we even know where he is."

"It's rather useless to confront him until we destroy the Trinkets, anyway. The only legitimate purpose we have at Hogwarts is the Pensieve. They probably wonder why we're spending so much time in the library. If they think we're up to something, they might try to ship Harry back to Headquarters."

Harry laughed shortly. "I definitely don' t want to go back there. Especially with the Dursleys in residence. I wonder how that is going."

"Maybe you should ask."

"I really don't care," Harry said coolly. She decided not to push the issue. After all, she hadn't even checked up on her own parents, and she loved them. She made a mental note to do so, however.

"I think we should all go spend some time with Harry and the Pensieve. We can swing by the library and grab the books we need—be certain to get a good assortment so they don't know what we're looking for if they decide to snoop."

"You're pretty good at this underhanded business," Draco said admiringly. "I never would have guessed Gryffindors could be so sneaky."

"We've had a lot of practice," she said dryly with a look at Harry, who laughed.

"We've been quite aboveboard, lately," he protested. "I haven't pulled out the Invisibility Cloak since we've been here."

"Keep it handy," Hermione advised. "We might need it tonight."

When Ron finished eating, they trooped up to the library and then to Dumbledore's old office.

"All right, are you coming with me, Hermione?" Harry asked hopefully after he dumped the vial contents into the basin.

"Yes." She looked sharply at Ron and Draco. "Don't kill each other."

Dumbledore was in Snape's office again. Snape had a glass of amber liquid on the desk before him and he looked shaken.

"You wouldn't really have let them perform the dementor's kiss on Sirius, would you? Can you possibly hate him that much?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape looked tired. His hand shook when he took a drink from his glass. He set it down and sighed explosively.

"I don't know. I'd like to think not, but when I saw him again… When I heard the story about them becoming Animagi…" Snape propped his elbows on the desk and massaged his temples. "It just brought back too many memories. I hated them all so much, and to find the four of them sharing such a secret… I'm afraid I went a little mad."

"Because you were jealous?" Dumbledore asked softly. Snape's black eyes flashed viciously.

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me, Albus. I made peace with my demons long ago. I was content to see Sirius languishing in Azkaban. But, no, I don't think I could have seen him given the dementor's kiss."

"And if he was innocent all along? If the children are correct and Peter Pettigrew is alive? What then?"

Snape shrugged. "It's more than likely. I never really believed that Sirius would betray James Potter. He loved James more than his own brother." Snape's voice was bitter. "I always assumed he was under Voldemort's _Imperius Curse_."

"And yet you allowed him to go to Azkaban without a word of protest."

"He was safe in Azkaban," Snape hissed. "And don't try to sound holier-than-thou. You thought he was guilty, also. Did _you_ ever seek out the truth?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I'm afraid I was also willing to believe the worst. And Pettigrew was gone. He never resurfaced."

Snape laughed harshly. "Peter Pettigrew. My God, Sirius was a trusting fool. I wouldn't trust Pettigrew with the key to my laundry chute."

"Well, Sirius is free now."

"For how long? Until Voldemort returns and hunts us all down like rabid wolves? If Sirius was correct, Voldemort will have a loyal servant again. Do you still have no fear of him regaining a body?"

"We have had no word of him since he sought the Stone. We will, of course, continue to watch." He sighed. "Lupin has resigned."

"What a pity," Snape said dryly and his eyes gleamed with amusement.

"I will have to find yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"I am willing to step into that post any time, Headmaster," Snape said. Dumbledore actually chuckled.

"I seek to teach the students to defend themselves against the Dark Arts, not embrace them."

Snape gave him a sneer. "I'm sick to death of Potions."

"But you are exceptional with them."

"Don't flatter me. I know my place."

"You are not a prisoner here."

"The hell I'm not. Now, please get out of my cell and let me drink myself into oblivion." He raised his glass. "To Sirius! May he fly to freedom and never return!"

Dumbledore got to his feet.

"I think you have already had enough drink."

"On the contrary. I have not even begun."

Dumbledore looked at him disapprovingly, shook his head, and went out.

"I don't understand all these Snape memories," Harry said when they returned. Draco and Ron were involved in a tense wizard chess match in one corner. Hermione watched them uneasily. "What is he trying to tell us?"

Hermione looked at Dumbledore's portrait. Surprisingly, he was present. His eyes twinkled at her.

"Why Snape?" she asked. "You can't ask us to trust him now, after what he did to you!"

"Well, Hermione, you must make up your own minds about that. All I may tell you is that some secrets cannot be revealed, even by death."

"You are trying to show us a secret about Snape? Something you cannot tell us directly?" Harry asked.

"Everything so far has been bloody confusing."

"And it doesn't matter, anyway, because Snape has rejoined the Death Eaters, where he belongs. He's gone back to the Dark Side, so trusting him has become a moot point. Did you leave us a single clue about Horcruxes?"

"The Horcruxes are a mystery, indeed, Harry. But of far greater import is what lies inside the human heart. It is not tokens that will decide this matter. It is the choices made by each of the players."

Hermione looked at Malfoy, who met her gaze with a slight smile before he turned his attention back to the chessboard.

Harry's hand scraped through his black hair, a sure sign of his frustration.

"Checkmate," said Draco, causing both Harry and Hermione to stare at them in surprise. Ron looked ready to spit nails.

"Ron knows about Canopic jars and Draco beats him at chess," Hermione muttered to Harry. "Are we in the right dimension?"

Harry chuckled. She sighed.

"Well, this has been another exciting Pensieve episode. I'm ready for a nap. I'll take some of these books with me," she said loudly. She gathered up several tomes. "Let's meet in the Gryffindor common room at nine. That will give us a few hours to prepare the chamber. We'll collect everything necessary after dinner."

She left the three males alone and vaguely hoped they didn't hurt each other. She went to her room and had just set the books on her bed when the Galleon heated.

_I hate to bother you, but do you suppose we can concoct that message to my parents now?_

_What do you need me to do?_

_Meet me in the Slytherin common room and I'll explain._

_All right._

She knew she probably shouldn't meet him alone again, but she had agreed to help him. She picked up the books and went downstairs, thankfully without running into Harry or Ron. Draco was not in the common room when she got there. She set the books on a nearby table and sat on the couch. No way would she go back to his room again.

As it turned out, he wasn't in his room. He arrived about ten minutes later and dropped a bundle of linen on the edge of the couch.

"I stopped at the Staff Room. It's deserted in the summer. It's odd that we haven't seen Peeves, either. Does a poltergeist take a holiday?"

"I doubt it. Maybe he's just used to tormenting the usual residents during the summer. Either way, I haven't missed him. How do you need my help?"

"Wait here. I'll show you."

Draco went to his room for a minute. When he returned, he carried an assortment of items. Parchment, two quills, ink, a small ceramic dish, and a small silver-handled knife. He set everything on the low table before the couch, added his wand, and sat down beside her.

"Okay, this is what I need your help with," he said earnestly. He picked up the knife by the curved blade. It looked wickedly sharp.

"I need you to draw my blood. Traditionally, a cut is made on the thumb, but that hurts like the devil for days. I prefer the wrist or arm—it bleeds more and hurts less in the long run."

She stared at him in absolute horror and ignored the knife he held out to her, hilt-first.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered.

Draco grimaced. "I'm a bit squeamish when it comes to pain. Particularly when it's self-inflicted."

"You have to draw your blood?"

"Unfortunately, yes. It's the only way to send a private message into a den of Death Eaters."

She shook her head. "No. Let's not do it, then."

"I have to. I'm sure my mother is nearly frantic with worry. I don't want her to do anything stupid just to find out what happened to me. I'll cut myself if I have to, but I'd rather not."

"Instead, you want _me_ to slice you open?"

"You can't tell me you haven't dreamed of plunging a knife into me," he said dryly.

"I never once dreamed of plunging a knife into you! Besides, that was before…"

"Before you fell hopelessly in love with me?" he asked with a grin. She snatched the knife.

"You do have a point about the knife-plunging dream."

He rolled his white cuff back and held out his left wrist to her expectantly. She took his arm in her left hand and gripped the knife tightly in her right. She met his gaze for a moment and his silver eyes looked so appealingly trusting that her hand shook.

"I can't do it," she said after a moment. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Just try to recall one of the times you did want to hurt me. I'm sure that won't be difficult," he suggested.

She could feel his heartbeat beneath her thumb. She looked at his wrist and swallowed. His skin was so pale the veins were clearly visible. She would rather trace one with a finger than slice him open.

"Is this very dark magic?" she asked quietly and he chuckled.

"It's not dark magic at all. I just have to attune the message to those of my blood. Only my parents will be able to read it. Come on, this should be simple for a brave Gryffindor."

She shut her eyes and took a steadying breath. Just a nick. That's all it would take. She opened her eyes and laid the tip of the blade gently against a vein at the base of his palm. The knife trembled slightly.

"You know, I just don't think I can—" she began, but he jerked his arm suddenly and a red gash appeared under the blade. Hermione gasped and dropped the knife.

Draco picked up the small dish and began to collect the blood that seeped from the wound.

"Thanks, Granger," he murmured.

"That wasn't fair," she said accusingly.

"I know, but it worked."

She realized she still gripped his arm and quickly released him. She picked up the knife and cut some of the linen into strips to bind around his wrist when he finished obtaining a small pool of blood. She tied the linen for him and then watched as he alternately cast a spell on the parchment and dipped a quill into the blood. He wrote a quick message telling them he was safe and asking about Regulus Black. When he finished, he tapped the message with his wand and muttered another spell. The dark red words disappeared.

"Okay, I need you again. In your best handwriting write, in ink, over the words I just wrote. Make it sound like an advertisement. Something like 'Twillfit and Tatting's cordially invites you to a private viewing of their new fall collection.'"

"Wait, this has to be just right." Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote his words. They crossed out, added, and adjusted it until it sounded like a real invitation. She then copied it over Draco's invisible words and then he drew a stylized T copied from the tag on his cloak. She reached for the sand, but he stopped her.

"Sand can be traced," he said.

"You're joking."

"No, it's pretty simple. If even one Hogwarts grain is left on here, they can detect it. We'll let it air dry." He blew on it gently and she secretly admired the way his lips pursed. For just a moment, she imagined him blowing on her skin that way and immediately regretted it when a blush heated her cheeks. Thankfully, he didn't notice. They sealed the tiny scroll with a piece of black ribbon Draco located.

They took a roundabout route to the Owlery in order to avoid detection. Draco tucked the scroll into the carrier on a school owl's leg.

"Take this to Narcissa Malfoy," he ordered and released the owl. They both watched until it was a tiny black speck in the sky.

She noticed the makeshift bandage on Draco's wrist was stained red. She grabbed his hand and gently unwrapped the bandage. She looked at the gash and bit her lip. She met his grey eyes for a moment and then pulled out her wand. She rested the tip next to the wound and whispered a spell. To her relieved surprise, the injury sealed itself into a thin line that quickly took on the pale hue of a healed wound.

Draco rubbed a finger across it and raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive, Granger. When did you learn healing spells?"

"I read everything I could get my hands on when school let out. Memorized dozens of spells. I just haven't had the chance to use any of them. Until now."

"Well, you did an excellent job. How was it?"

"Strange. Not like other spells. You have to draw the energy from yourself, rather than elsewhere. I could feel a bit of a drain even for that small cut. There must be a trick or technique for healing larger wounds." She shuddered a bit. "I'm far too squeamish for major healing."

"That makes two of us." Draco grinned. "What shall we do now?"

"We should definitely get some rest, especially you, now that you've lost blood. We'll need all of our energy tonight. I'll walk you back to the common room, since I left the books there."

When they reached the Slytherin common room again, she made Draco lie down on the sofa and propped his head with green and silver pillows.

"Why don't you lie down here with me?" he suggested. She rolled her eyes.

"The object is for you to rest, not overexcite yourself with the need to show off your masculine prowess."

"Is that what you think I was doing before?"

"I don't want to know your motivation," she said quickly.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm likely to believe whatever you tell me, no matter how distant it is from the truth."

He scowled. "Actually, what you're saying is that you won't believe anything I say, even if it happens to be the truth."

She grinned. "That would be correct." He gave her a wounded expression and she didn't believe that for a moment, either.

"Now, stop chattering and go to sleep."

"Will you stay here with me?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why? Are you afraid of me?"

"No. I've been alone with you all afternoon. Why should I be afraid now?"

"Exactly. Wake me up before dinner," he said and shut his eyes. Having neatly trapped herself, she sighed, picked up one of the books, and sat on the end of the sofa, being careful not to touch him. After a moment, she leaned over and tugged off Draco's boots. He sighed in contentment and murmured sleepy thanks. She smiled and immersed herself in the book, but she still noticed when his breathing became deep and even. She levitated his cloak to cover him and let her eyes caress his features. She felt a strange sense of contentment, watching him sleep. It disturbed her.


	27. Chapter 27 Favor

**Chapter Twenty Seven - Favor**

Draco awoke to find Hermione fast asleep at the opposite end of the couch. The book was open on her lap. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before glancing at the clock on the mantle. Six fifteen. He'd better go up to the Great Hall and make an appearance before the Gryffindors wondered where he was.

His cloak had slid onto the floor, so he picked it up. He carefully removed the book from Hermione's lap and covered her with his cloak. He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes for a moment and wondered how his feelings could have changed so quickly. Had it only been days ago that he despised her? They had been through so much together. Luna, the rescue of Longbottom, the Horcrux search… Now that she had included Draco into her close circle of friends, he had a suspicion that she would fight to the death for him, the same as she would for Potter or Weasley. Her inability to cut him had been eye opening. She didn't want to hurt him, even on a superficial level. After all he had done to her…

He shook his head. As it turned out, he no longer wanted to hurt her, either. He went to his room and spent some time on a small project and then he went upstairs and grinned wickedly at Weasley's sigh of relief when Draco appeared in the Great Hall. The Weasel would have flipped his top if he knew where Hermione was at this moment. Draco wondered if Hermione could seriously entertain the notion of Weasley as a boyfriend. Her lack of enthusiasm when describing his kiss had been telling. Draco froze for a moment, wondering why he was even worrying about the idea. If she wanted Weasley, it was fine with him. Better than fine.

"Hermione must be sleeping," Harry commented when Draco sat down across from him. Draco was rather surprised to be the recipient of a conversation. Potter must be feeling under the weather.

"Let her rest. She'll likely be doing most of the work tonight. If you're finished, we should go and start preparations. Plus, we still need a lot of items."

"Aren't you eating?"

"I'll eat later."

"All right. I'm finished."

Draco scribbled a quick list and the three of them parted to retrieve the necessary equipment. They all met on the third floor and Harry guided Draco down to the hidden chamber, lighting the way brightly with his wand. The space was nearly perfect, a high-walled chamber with multiple vaults and a lowered dais in the center. It was very dusty and Draco set Ron and Harry to sweeping while he alternately shot jets of water and wind from his wand until the floor gleamed. The three of them, however, were filthy from splattered dirty water.

Draco set a small table in the center of the room and carefully draped a linen cloth over it. Atop the cloth, he set the Hufflepuff cup, a small incense burner, a cauldron, a piece of parchment inscribed with a stylized pentagram, a large ball of white string, and a white candle. Next to the altar, he set four additional candles: red, brown, yellow, and blue.

Harry was busy with a bucket of salt, into which he mixed several of Hermione's gathered herbs: angelica, horehound, mistletoe, and nettle. Draco set another censor, two small bowls, crumbled bits of frankincense and myrrh, and the flask of holy water next to the four mismatched candles.

He stood and looked at the other two.

"I think this is ready. Now, we just wait for Granger. What time is it?"

"Eight twenty," Harry supplied after a quick glance at his watch. Draco nodded.

"I suggest we all get cleaned up. We purified the room and it wouldn't hurt to do the same to ourselves. Let's plan to meet back here at 11:30."

He went straight to the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor, stripped, and sank gratefully into a tub of very hot water. He dunked his head and settled back for a long, relaxing soak. His languid recreation was broken some time later when the coin he now wore about his neck heated. He lifted it on its new cord.

_Malfoy?_

_Finally awake?_

_Yes. Where are you?_

_In the bath. Care to join me?_

_Hardly. Where are the others?_

_Certainly not here! Why don't you check out the Gryffindor common room?_

_All right. Where shall I meet you?_

_Here would be nice._

_Drag your mind from the gutter and be serious._

_I was serious. But for the sake of your virtue, I'll meet you in the chamber in thirty minutes or so._

_Enjoy your bath._

That was out of the question, now. He'd been enjoying it immensely until the image of her joining him there took over his mind. He quickly soaped his hair, rinsed, and left the water.

He wrapped himself in a thick white dressing gown, as a row of them hung from hooks on the wall. Rather than stride through the halls half-undressed, he _Tranfigured_ it into a set of white dress robes, getting them too tight at first. It took several attempts before he was satisfied with the results. He wondered how Hermione always managed to get the fit right on the first try.

He pulled his boots back on, combed his drying hair, and headed for the chamber. She was already there, assessing the work they had done.

"Nice job," she commented. She turned to look at him fully and her eyes widened as they traveled over him. He grinned. He quite enjoyed it when she looked at him like that.

"White?" she asked.

"It seemed appropriate."

"I never would have guessed the color would suit you so well. You look like…" She stopped and a bit of pink tinted her cheeks.

"Like what?" he prodded, but she shook her head.

"Never mind. Your ego needs no more fodder. It's swollen enough."

He walked forward and stood before her in his usual manner. He loved watching her wrestle with her need to step away. Her Gryffindor pride always won. She held her ground, as usual, and raised stormy brown eyes to his.

"Must you always stand so bloody close?" she asked.

"Yes," he said seriously. It was the only way he could drink in the apple-like scent of her, and watch the expressions that flitted across her face. Like the brief flash of annoyance that warred with the blush creeping across her cheeks. The fact that simply standing close to her had an effect on her gave him a heady sense of masculine power. Judging from the kiss they had shared and her reaction to it, Miss Granger's resistance to him was eroding quickly.

With a silent groan, he realized he shouldn't have conjured that particular memory. Her full lips were the color of a ripe peach and he knew they tasted as sweet. His heart began to thud in his chest and her blush deepened as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. Her chin rose almost imperceptibly and her lips parted. Her eyelids fluttered downward.

No way in hell could he resist that invitation. He lowered his head, but a venomous snarl caused him to pause and look over his shoulder. Hermione gasped. Weasley stood in the doorway looking as though he wanted to fly into the room and pummel Draco with his bare fists.

"God, Weasley," Draco said dryly. "Could you possibly have located a color that clashes more with your hair?" Ron's robes were clean, but a bit worn, and resembled the color of dried blood. Draco tipped his wand and turned the robes a different color.

Weasley yelped. "_What the hell—?_ No way am I wearing Slytherin green! Hermione!"

She turned his robes back and then gave Draco a look, but admitted, "I have to say green does suit you, Ron."

"Maybe I should have been in Slytherin, then," Ron said bitterly. "You seem to have a thing for them all of a sudden."

"Honestly, Ronald," she said in exasperation and rolled her eyes. "Where's Harry?"

"Coming. Should we start early?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm starving and I feel inappropriately dressed. I think I'll get something to eat and then change."

"I'll join you," Draco said.

"Let's all go," Ron snapped and Draco grinned. The Weasel certainly had his dander up. Hermione headed down the corridor, followed by Ron, who fell into step beside Draco.

"You owe me a favor, Malfoy," Ron said in a low voice. Draco flicked a disdainful glance at him.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good. I want you to stay away from Hermione."

Draco watched her walking ahead of them. Her curls bounced when she moved and the skirt she wore twitched invitingly with each step of her delectable legs. Draco's eyes caressed her form wickedly.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one, Weasel."

"I mean it, Malfoy," Ron hissed. "You're playing some sort of horrid game with her and she seems to be falling for it. I don't want to see her hurt, so you just leave her the hell alone."

"Relax. If her ickle heart gets broken, she'll go running to you for comfort, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I don't want her around you at all. You're bad news and I'm not buying this whole 'change of heart' routine. Not one bit. If you want to convince me you're not the same person who arranged Dumbledore's death, you'll do as I ask. You fucking _owe_ me and I'm telling you what will square us."

Draco felt a rush of annoyance.

"I don't want to convince you of anything, Weasley. Believe whatever you like. God, you Gryffindors are narrow-minded. Everything is either black or white to you. _Your_ motives sure as hell aren't squeaky-clean. She's a big girl and she can make her own decisions. She doesn't need you manipulating her life."

"Don't even get me started on manipulation, you Slytherin bastard! Somehow, you're making her forget who you really are—what you've done! Well, I haven't forgotten."

They were nearly to the chamber beneath the trapdoor. Draco wanted to slam Weasley against the wall. He fought down his rage. Hermione glanced back at them and he noticed her gaze travel over him again. Her lips curved in a sensual smile that nearly stopped Draco's heart. He expelled a breath. Maybe the Weasel was right. He'd probably end up hurting her in the end. Where did he expect it to go? A hot, delicious roll in the sack? And then what? A girl like Hermione wouldn't settle for casual treatment. She would expect commitment. Hand-holding. Flowers. Engagement ring. Invitation home to meet Mummy and Daddy.

His jaw clenched. That would go over well. "Mother, Father, meet my Mudblood girlfriend. Yes, the same girl I hated with a passion for six long years. Ironic, isn't it?"

She stopped and waited for them expectantly. It took a fine-tuned _Wingardium Leviosa_ to get them back up to the third floor. No one could cast it better than Hermione. Hell, no one could cast much of anything better than her. She really did deserve better than Draco Malfoy. He glared at Weasley. She deserved better than the Weasel, too. What she deserved was… He shook his head and chuckled wryly. She deserved the Golden Boy himself. She deserved Harry Potter.

Weasley scowled at him suspiciously.

"All right, Weasel-face. You win. I'll do it," Draco said with a sigh of resignation.

"Do what?" Hermione asked now that they were close enough for her to overhear.

"No tricks?" Ron demanded.

"No tricks. You have my word as a Malfoy."

Ron's derisive expression revealed what he thought about that vow, but Draco didn't give a damn whether he believed it or not.

"What are you two plotting?"

Draco gazed at her sadly and wished he had been able to kiss her one last time. He sighed. C'est la vie.

"Never mind," Ron said. "Just a little matter between me and Malfoy. Take us up, Hermione."

She looked from one of them to the other, shook her head, and cast the spell.

They gathered in the chamber once more at 11:45. Hermione had eaten and then hurried off to bathe. She had waited expectantly for Draco to offer to join her and her eyes had narrowed in puzzlement when he hadn't even grinned. Draco had cursed Weasley under his breath, though. Roundly and often.

She was currently dressed in yellow robes. A strange color, but one that fit her well. She looked like springtime. Draco decided he had best stop thinking about her and turned his eyes to the others. Weasley still wore his ugly red robes and Harry's were black—an odd contract to Draco's white. They all stood around the altar and Hermione handed Draco the bucket of herbed salt.

"Cast away, oh mighty one," she said quietly.

Draco took the salt in his left hand and his wand in his right. The others looked sober, but determined. They had lit several candles about the room to provide light. Draco tried to shake off the notion that the place resembled a crypt. Not exactly a thought conducive to a positive working. He walked several paces from the altar in order to give them a large enough space, and then tipped the bucket. As he walked, he drew an imaginary line with his wand before covering it with salt.

"I conjure thee, oh circle of power, in this place, purified for our purpose. May this circle be perfect and unbroken. Guard us within. Sanctify this space and shield us from all powers without. Preserve and contain the powers we raise herein. By completion of thy sacred ring, I bless and consecrate thee."

With his final words, the ring of salt was completed. A bluish glow emanated from the outer edge of the salt, losing its hue as it rose, but giving the illusion of a shield enclosing the space overhead. He looked at Hermione expectantly.

She took up the censor containing frankincense and myrrh and placed it at the easternmost point of the circle. She lit them with her wand and a fragrant hint of smoke curled upwards. She _Accioed_ the yellow candle and set it next to the censor.

She stood before the candle and raised her arms upwards in supplication, wand still clutched tightly in her right hand.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the East, bringer of the dawn. Lend to us your knowledge. Grant us clarity of thought, swift and pure as the desert wind that sweeps across the sand. Join with us. Protect us with the power of air and the innocence of childhood. With this light I conjure thee."

She lowered her wand and lit the candle. There was no change, but Draco felt a sudden charging of the air, as though a lightning storm was approaching. She turned and looked at Ron, who seemed nervous. He gamely took up the red candle and went to the southern point. He set the candle on the floor, swallowed, and took out the small card Hermione had made for him. He began to read.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the South, keeper of the light of noon. Lend to us your energy. Grant us the willpower to see us through our purpose, strong and bright as the sun that heats the desert sand. Join with us. Protect us with the power of fire and the vigor of youth. With this light I conjure thee."

He lit the red candle.

Draco stood to the west with the bowl of holy water and the blue candle. He set both on the floor. Hermione had given him a card, but he had already memorized the words. He raised his arms and spoke.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the West, keeper of the dusk. Lend to us your passion. Grant us purity of emotion, as fluid as the Nile, which flows through the desert and brings life to the parched earth. Join with us. Protect us with the power of water and the wisdom of maturity. With this light I conjure thee."

Draco lit the blue candle with a flick of his wand, and then it was Harry's turn. He stood behind the small bowl of pure salt and the brown candle.

"Hail to thee, Son of Horus, Guardian of the North, keeper of darkest midnight. Lend to us your strength. Grant us the endurance to see the coming battle through, solid as the rock beneath the desert sand. Join with us. Protect us with the power of earth and the resolution of old age. With this light I conjure thee."

Harry lit his candle.

With that, the air around them seemed to fairly crackle with energy. Draco let out a breath. He hated ritual magic. There were too many variables. He much preferred to point, flick, and focus his will.

Hermione walked forward and lifted the Horcrux. She set it directly on the parchment inscribed with the pentagram. Next, she lit the thick white candle.

"Now for the hard part," she said and met Draco's eyes. He went forward to stand by her, although he wouldn't be able to help her once she started the incantation.

"You can do it," he said encouragingly. She smiled fleetingly and began.

The spell had been taken from the book and had to be repeated several times. She punctuated each chant by touching the cup with herbs, holy water, salt, and her wand. A tangible force seemed to grow over the cup and Draco could see the strain on Hermione's face as she struggled to keep the words steady. The cup suddenly blackened and crumpled upon itself. Hermione levitated the cup and parchment. She set the cup down once the paper was free and then caused it to roll tightly like a scroll. Still using her wand, she began to wrap the white string tightly around the parchment. Draco could see her shaking with effort.

He lifted his wand and took over the string wrapping while she kept the scroll in midair. The thing resisted the binding. He persevered and it was finally completely wrapped in string. Hermione dropped it into the cauldron with relief. She cast another spell almost angrily and the string-wrapped paper ignited. It smoldered reluctantly at first, but quickly grew to fill the cauldron with angry, crackling flames that licked skyward and burned with an ugly greenish light.

A sudden howl burst from the cauldron and a dark shape streaked outward. It flung itself at Hermione, but seemed to have no tangibility. She gasped as it went straight through her, and then she crumpled against Draco, who caught her and sank to his knees. He watched as the thing spiraled wildly around their heads, shrieking with an otherworldly sound.

"_Open the circle!_" Draco yelled to Harry. Potter aimed a burst of water at the salt on the floor and it washed away. As if the air were suddenly sucked from the space, the dark shape hurtled out. As they watched, it dissipated as though shredded by invisible hands. The howling ceased.

"Exit Tom Riddle," Draco said breathlessly. He put a hand to Hermione's neck and felt for a pulse. Thankfully, her heart beat normally. She was probably just in shock from having a piece of Voldemort plunge through her. Ron hurried over and knelt beside them. He grabbed Hermione's shoulders and pulled her away from Draco, who watched him coldly, but said nothing. Ron lifted Hermione's still form.

"I'll take her upstairs," he said flatly. He walked over the broken circle and headed for the exit.

Harry was holding the blackened Hufflepuff cup. He looked at Draco somberly.

"One down," he said. Draco nodded.

"Now we just have to find the rest."

Draco blew out the guttering candles with quick bursts of air from his wand. Harry started after Ron, but paused at the doorway.

"Hey, Malfoy."

Draco looked over at him.

"Thanks for your help," Harry said seriously.

Draco smiled softly.

"Bet that hurt."

Harry laughed. "Yeah."

The Boy Who Lived turned and went out, leaving Draco in the growing darkness.


	28. Chapter 28 Harry's Observations

**Chapter Twenty Eight – Harry's Observations**

Harry was keyed up as he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. When he stepped through the portrait hole, he stopped in surprise. Hermione lay on the couch, still out cold, and Ron stood over her. Ginny Weasley stood before Ron with her hands on her hips and a confrontational stance.

Harry grinned and admired her for a moment before she turned on him angrily. His grin vanished. She walked to him and slid her arms around his neck.

"Hi, Harry," she said sweetly and planted a kiss on his lips. He kissed her cautiously, uncomfortable, as always, when doing so in Ron's presence. He pushed her away regretfully.

"Hi, Ginny. I thought we agreed not to do that any more."

"Actually, _you_ agreed to that. I don't recall signing any contracts. Now, suppose you tell me what you've all been up to in the middle of the night, since my dear brother refuses to talk."

"When did you get here?" Harry countered, ignoring her question.

"About twenty minutes ago. It was Moody's idea to travel at night, of course. Sometimes I think he's completely lost it. Imagine my surprise to discover Gryffindor Tower completely empty. If I didn't know you so well, I would have gone straight to McGonagall."

"We were out… looking for something," Harry said lamely, which was somewhat vaguely true if you stretched your imagination far enough.

"Really? And _where_ were you looking for this something? And what happened to Hermione?"

Harry thought hard. Answering those questions would require blatant lying and he really didn't want to do that to Ginny.

"I can't tell you," he said quietly. Her brown eyes flashed and then sparkled with angry tears.

"You know, I really hate it when you do this!" she yelled. "You three and your secrets! Why can't you ever let anyone into your tight little group? I've been possessed by Voldemort! I was nearly killed! What more do I have to do to be included in this private war of yours? If _anyone_ should be involved, it should be me!"

Harry looked at Ron helplessly.

"It's not my decision," Harry told her quietly. "I was sworn to silence by Dumbledore."

"But Dumbledore is—"

"Some secrets cannot be revealed, even by death," Harry said, repeating Dumbledore's words. "Look at Grimmauld Place. Look at Hogwarts. He might be gone, but his essence remains. His spells yet hold, and his secrets will be maintained. I would tell you, but I can't."

He winced inwardly, because he had lied to her, after all. Even if he could, he would never tell her. He didn't want her anywhere near another Horcrux. He wanted her isolated and safe, even if she hated him for it.

She glared at him. "I don't believe you. If you really wanted to include me, you'd find a way. You find loopholes and break rules any time it suits your purpose. You just don't want me to know."

"I'm trying to…" He stopped, knowing if he mentioned the words "protect" or "safe" that she would blow like a champagne cork.

"Save it," she snapped. "If you want me out of it, then consider me excluded. As usual."

She whirled and stalked for the girl's dorm. Harry cringed when a door slammed upstairs.

"That went well," Ron commented.

"She hates me," Harry moaned.

"She's just mad right now. She'll throw some stuff or blow a hole in the wall, but she'll get over it."

"Maybe we should tell her. I mean, Malfoy knows… it's not exactly our exclusive secret any more."

Ron shook his head vehemently. "No. It was horrible, when she was in the Chamber of Secrets. I can't go through that again. She stays out of it."

Harry sighed, but nodded. He knew it wouldn't be easy. She was no shrinking violet to meekly accept the role they expected of her.

"She'll be watching us. It's going to be a lot harder to sneak around."

"Well, we won't have to do much of that for awhile. We've got no leads on any other… Trinkets. We don't know where You-Know-Who is. We're pretty much stuck here with Pensieve memories and the useless library until something cracks."

Ron located a blanket and draped it over Hermione gently. They had no way of taking her upstairs without triggering the alarm. Harry shook his head, still somewhat annoyed at the whole no-boys-in-the-girls'-dorm rule. Like any Gryffindor boy would be ignoble enough to sneak into the girl's dorm… Well, maybe Fred and George.

Ron brushed a lock of hair from Hermione's forehead. Harry's eyes narrowed at the gesture. It hadn't occurred to him until just that moment, but Ron's move triggered his memory. Harry knew there was something between Malfoy and Hermione. It had been obvious from the moment they had appeared at Hogwarts. It wasn't just the kiss on the stairs, either. It was the way they looked at one another, the palpable tension in the air when they were together, and the fleeting glances they gave to each other when they thought no one was watching… And then Hermione's admission that Ron's kiss had not affected her. Harry had no idea how Malfoy felt, but he was afraid that Hermione was already half in love with Draco, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself.

Yet, this afternoon, something had been different. Malfoy had suddenly become distant. He hadn't returned Hermione's teasing jibes; he had kept a safe distance between them; and the most telling of all—he had backed down from Ron in the broken circle. Without a word. It was beyond curious. It was damned strange. Harry opened his mouth to ask Ron about it, but he closed it with a snap. He knew Ron would be evasive and then defensive. Harry didn't want a row at this hour.

Besides, anything that kept Draco Malfoy away from Hermione probably wasn't a bad thing.

He just hoped she would see it that way.

Harry tossed in bed for awhile, but found himself unable to sleep. He got up and pulled on a dressing gown and slippers. After a moment, he slung on his Invisibility Cloak and padded out. He probably wouldn't run into anyone at this hour of the night, but on the off chance, he didn't want to answer any questions.

A passing ghost was the only moving creature he saw on the way to the Pensieve. Once in McGonagall's office, he lit a lamp and poured the next vial into the basin. He hated to go alone, but assumed it would be another Snape memory. In that, he was right.

The scene in the Pensieve revealed Snape as Harry had never before seen him. They were in Dumbledore's office again. Dumbledore was seated before the desk, looking old, worn, and sad. Snape was pacing and he looked distraught. His hair was disheveled and his hands were twisting together in agitation.

"It's my fault," Snape said. "I taunted him. I practically _dared_ him. I didn't know he would run off like that!" He laughed harshly, a painful sound without humor. "I should have known, of course. There was a reason he was sorted into Gryffindor. He always had more courage than sense, you know."

Snape sat heavily in a chair opposite Dumbledore. Harry was astonished to see tears gathering in Snape's eyes. Who the hell was he talking about?

"Sirius knew the risks," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry gasped and shook his head, unable to accept what his ears were hearing. He stared from one of them to the other, locked in denial. Snape didn't seem to have heard the Headmaster. His eyes were unfocused.

"I should have been there," Snape said quietly. Harry clenched his fists. Snape _couldn't_ be talking about the battle at the Department of Mysteries! He couldn't be pretending to be upset that Sirius had gone through the veil!

Snape went on. "And Bellatrix. How could she? Sirius might have been a blood-traitor, but he was a _Black_! He didn't deserve to die that way." Harry shook his head again, not believing a single word. His nails dug into his palms and he suddenly wished the memory were real so he could leap on Snape and pound him into jelly.

Snape sobbed suddenly and buried his head in his hands. Harry stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. Surely the Headmaster didn't _believe_ this ridiculous blatant acting? Snape had treated Sirius like scum beneath his shoes and now he was _sorry_ about his death? Was Dumbledore a complete imbecile?

Harry narrowed his eyes suddenly as a thought occurred to him. Snape was a skilled Occlumens. Was it possible his talents had evolved past simply blocking his thoughts from others? Was it feasible that Snape had actually learned how to _project_ his will? Could he actually influence Dumbledore into believing his words? It was better than an _Imperius Curse_ because the recipient would believe they acted of their own free will. Harry backed away as the idea took root. No wonder Dumbledore had trusted Snape! He'd had no choice in the matter!

Snape looked up again and his face was wet with tears. Harry's rage nearly exploded. Actual tears! Harry's anger toward Snape had dissipated somewhat since the incident on the Tower, but now it returned full force. His desire to kill Voldemort was second to his need to kill Snape. The bastard had fooled them all, even the greatest wizard among them.

"It wasn't your fault," Dumbledore said apologetically. "None of it was your fault."

Yes, it was, Harry thought angrily. It was all Snape's fault. All of it.

Snape stood up. "You know, if your damned Chosen Hero had learned his lessons, no one would have gone to the Department of Mysteries at all! Your precious Harry Potter didn't even _try_ to block Voldemort's images! And you were bloody stupid not to tell him about the goddamn prophecy!"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I am aware of my failings. I didn't count on Harry's curiosity outweighing his common sense."

"Despite the fact that I warned you several times," Snape said venomously. He got to his feet.

Dumbledore nodded wearily. "Recriminations will not bring Sirius back. We cannot change the past."

Snape looked at him with disgust. "Spare me your platitudes, old man. As far as I'm concerned, Sirius's blood is on your hands as well as mine."

He stormed to the door and out.

Harry sat heavily on the window seat and tried to grasp what he had witnessed. Snape had made Dumbledore believe that he was upset over the death of Sirius. Additionally, he had made Dumbledore feel extremely guilty over the incident. To what end? Was it merely to cement the trust Dumbledore already had in Snape? Harry began to see why Dumbledore had left so many memories of Snape. He couldn't directly reveal Snape's duplicity, but he could expose it, layer by layer.

Harry stood up and walked to Dumbledore's portrait. He lit his wand to provide light and the Headmaster, who appeared to have been sleeping, blinked at the sudden brightness.

"Harry! How nice to see you. Wandering about at night again?"

"Snape was using some spell on you, wasn't he?" Harry asked. "He forced you to trust him. Some spell he invented himself, maybe. We know he's good at that. Look at _Sectumsempra_. He made you believe him."

"Things are not always what they seem, Harry," Dumbledore's portrait said quietly.

"Yeah, well things definitely aren't what they seem with Snape, are they? I mean, _crying_ over Sirius's death? It defies rational thought! And yet, you accepted it without question."

"His grief was quite real, Harry."

Harry barked an amazed laugh. "It works even beyond the grave? Before I kill him, I think I'll extract the secret of that spell. Hell, if he can do that to you, he's probably calling the shots on old Voldemort by now. No wonder he ran back to his old master. Now that he's got you out of the way, all he needs to do is get rid of Voldemort and he'll be the one in control. I bet he can even get the Death Eaters to follow him."

Harry turned to leave. "Frankly, I hope he does kill Voldemort. That way, all I have to do is kill Snape. Let me tell you, I'm ready for that day. Between what he did to Sirius and what he did to you… If I have to become a murderer at least it will be for the sake of justice. Voldemort killed my parents before I even knew who they were. But Snape is responsible for the death of two people I cared about. A lot. That's a pain I have to live with every day."

Harry went out before Dumbledore could respond. He didn't want any reassurances or moral clichés. He just wanted to hunt down Severus Snape.

Draco woke up when the coin warmed on his chest. He sat up with a start. He blinked blearily at the coin and lit his wand to make out the words.

_Are you awake?_

He groaned and collapsed back on the pillow. God save him from Little Miss Sunshine. He probably should have left the coin on the bedside table last night.

_I am now._

_Well, it's about time. It's past noon. You have an owl._

Past noon? He stretched lazily. No wonder his stomach was complaining. He needed sustenance. What was she talking about? He had an owl? Of course he had an owl. It was at home—

He sat up suddenly. Bloody hell, how could he have received a reply from his parents already? He had only sent his message yesterday and Hogwarts was miles from anywhere. The clothes he had worn to Hogwarts had been cleaned and neatly folded. He tugged them on. Maybe the owl was from someone else. Not likely, but possible.

He entered the Great Hall and paused when he discovered a whole gaggle of Gryffindors seated at their usual table. The usual three, plus Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley. He shot Hermione an irritated glare for not warning him. She smiled sweetly.

"What's _he_ doing her?" Ginny yelled, leaping to her feet and brandishing her wand. Draco looked at her coldly. He could feel a headache coming on. One Weasley was bad enough. But four? Potter gripped his girlfriend's arm to pull her back down, but she yanked away. Draco raised an eyebrow. Apparently, everything was not peaches and cream in Loveland. Harry and Ginny had a hissed argument that grew louder until Ginny screamed something about Harry and his load of secrets and ran out of the room.

"Better go after her, Potter," Draco muttered, but Harry stayed in his seat, looking embarrassed and upset. Draco shook his head sadly. Once an idiot, always an idiot.

Hermione had saved a seat for Draco, but he rounded the table to sit in the space Ginny had vacated, next to Potter. An owl immediately fluttered down and landed before Draco. Hermione's eyes met his across the table as his brow knit in concern.

"Yours?" Hermione asked, obviously understanding the implications. If the message had been received and returned this quickly, it meant Draco's parents were nearby. The thought was somewhat alarming. Draco removed the message from the owl's holder and opened it. It was a brief message from Narcissa to Twillfit and Tatting's expressing regret that she could not attend their gala event. Draco rolled it up and tucked it into a pocket. He'd have to retrieve the true message later. After he ate.

Fred and George were watching him from their places beside Ron.

"So," said one twin. "Malfoy is here."

"Sitting next to Harry Potter," said the other.

"What's wrong with this picture?"

"It's completely insane?"

"Incomprehensible? Inexplicable?"

"Indubitably."

Draco's headache was growing. He ignored the annoying Weasleys and ate quickly. Harry was nursing a glass of pumpkin juice. He seemed preoccupied. When Draco finished and pushed his plate away, Harry asked quietly, "Can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?"

Without waiting for an answer, Potter rose and headed out. Curious, Draco followed. He heard Hermione start to get up and join them, but Ron stopped her with a question. Draco found Harry waiting for him by the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon. They walked together down the steps to Snape's office.

Harry wandered around the office aimlessly, peering at bottles and jars. Draco tossed himself into a chair and waited for Potter to get on with it. He finally turned around and looked at Draco seriously.

"You've spent a lot of time around Snape," Harry said. "I mean, he was your Head of House, you know where he lives, you saw him outside of school…"

"Is this going somewhere?" Draco asked dryly, twirling his wand.

Harry told him about the last Pensieve memory he'd witnessed and his speculation about the spell Snape had likely used on Dumbledore.

"So, do you think it's possible?" Harry finished. "For Snape to have created some sort of variation on the _Imperius Curse_?"

"Well, it is pretty farfetched to think he'd be broken up over Sirius Black… I suppose it's possible Snape invented a new spell. It wouldn't be the first time." He looked pointedly at Harry, who flushed guiltily.

"I didn't mean to use _Sectumsempra_ on you," he said quietly. "I panicked. I didn't even know what it did, at the time."

Draco shrugged. "Forget it. I wasn't exactly holding back on you, either."

They shared an uncomfortable silence and then Harry cleared his throat.

"Why do you think Snape told you about the Horcrux? And how did he know about it?"

"I've been thinking about that. I haven't anything concrete… just a vague idea."

"Which is?"

"I think Snape is in love with my mother."

Harry stared at him. "Seriously?"

Draco nodded. "She trusts Snape and always has. She was still at Hogwarts when he started. She's older than he is… I'm sure he followed her around like a puppy dog, back then. From what I remember, Snape joined Bella's little clique at school during her last year at Hogwarts. That was likely before they found out he was a half-blood, of course. But, even then he was a Dark Arts master."

Draco shifted slightly and tossed a leg over the arm of the chair. He tapped his wand idly against his knee.

"Snape was out at the Manor fairly often over breaks. I think he told Mother he was personally interested in my education. From what I recall, though, they spent a lot of time in the parlour drinking wine and reminiscing about their school days."

"Didn't that bother your father?"

Draco laughed in genuine amusement.

"Of course not. Look at Snape! My father knew he had nothing to fear from a shifty, greasy-haired, half-blood like Snape. I think it amused him to let the fool have his fantasies." Draco shook his head. "My parents are so deeply in love it's almost sickening. I have to leave the room when they sit together in front of the fire and gaze into each others' eyes." He shuddered. "Frankly, I'm surprised I'm an only child, the way they carry on…"

Harry held up a hand. "More information than I need, thank you."

Draco grinned. "Anyway, Snape made an Unbreakable Vow to my mother in order to protect me. Why the hell would he do that? Despite what he might have led you to believe, I wasn't his favorite student. I'm good at Potions, but I'm no genius like Granger. I don't think he even had a favorite student. He pretty much hated all of us. I got the impression he despised teaching."

"You know, in one memory, Snape said he was a prisoner here. Why do you suppose he stayed? To stop Voldemort? If that's the case, why did he kill Dumbledore? It couldn't have merely been to protect you and win your mother's favor. Could it?"

"I don't know. He does seem to want the Horcruxes destroyed. Maybe he decided he could do it without Dumbledore's help."

"He did rail at Dumbledore for wasting twelve years when they should have been looking for the things."

"He had a point there."

Harry nodded. Draco pulled out the message from his mother and got to his feet.

"I need to read this. Hang on and I'll tell you if it says anything useful."

He searched Snape's desk until he found a hellishly sharp knife. He took a deep breath while Harry watched him curiously.

"God, I hate this part," Draco admitted and then made a small slash on his arm. Harry gasped in surprise. Draco opened the scroll and let some of his blood trickle onto the parchment. Instantly, the inked words disappeared and reddish-brown letters appeared.

_Thank God you're safe! We've been so worried. HE has stopped all external activity and seeks to achieve his main objective. I'm not sure what that is, but it will not be pleasant when it comes. Do not return to the school! It's not safe. Don't try and contact us again unless it is vital. He watches us too closely. Be careful. We love you. Also, Regulus Black died in Carlisle. The house is in ruins,south of town overlooking the Firth._

Draco handed the message at Harry and conjured a bandage for his arm.

Harry rolled up the scroll and returned it to Draco. His green eyes shone.

"Let's go."

"What? Us? Now?"

"I'm sick of sitting around doing bloody nothing and waiting for my birthday. Do you know where this place is?"

"No, but it shouldn't be hard to find. All I need is a map. But, you don't honestly want to go alone with me. I could be a Death Eater, remember? I can't be trusted."

"Hermione trusts you. That's good enough for me."

Draco combed an annoyed hand through his hair. Having Potter look at him like that was almost worse than when Granger did it. Damned overly-trusting Gryffindors. He scowled.

"If anything happens to you, even accidentally, your little friends will rip me limb from limb."

Harry grinned wickedly.

"Then, you'd better make sure nothing happens to me, hadn't you?"

"I _really_ hate you. You know that, right?"

"It's been fairly obvious. If it's any consolation, I hate you, too."

"That's settled, then. Meet me on the Astronomy Tower within the hour. Bring your broom. You'll probably want your cloak, too, so your friends don't see you sneaking off. I'll go find a map and figure out a place to _Apparate_ us once we get past the grounds." He sighed. "This is probably the stupidest thing I've done lately."

"Don't worry, I think you've done plenty of stupid things, recently. One more shouldn't matter."

"Don't push it, Potter."


	29. Chapter 29 Draco and Harry

**Chapter Twenty Nine - Draco and Harry**

Draco stood impatiently on the Tower and drummed his fingers on his broomstick. Granted, he was early, but still, what could be taking The Chosen One so bloody long?

"Are you ready?" a voice asked ridiculously close to Draco's ear. He nearly jumped out of his skin and he heard invisible Harry laugh.

"Fuck you, Potter," Malfoy snarled and took a breath to calm his racing heart. Harry chuckled again. "Bastard. You might be invisible, but I am not. Are any of your Order members going to spot me and try to drag us back here?"

"I doubt it. Most of them left for the Ministry of Magic this morning to decide what to do with the Carrows."

"I could give them a hint," Draco said.

"I think they're looking into a less permanent solution."

"Fools. Amycus and Alecto didn't know much, did they?"

"Not that I heard. Moody was in a wretched temper, so they didn't have anything useful to say, apparently."

"How did you explain your absence to your clingy friends?"

"I left them a note."

Draco burst out laughing. "You like to live dangerously, don't you, Potter? I'd hate to be around Granger when she finds that little present." To that end, Draco had left Hermione's Galleon in his trunk. He did not need her trying to contact him all day long in a rage.

"Let's go before she finds it and come to kill us," Harry suggested.

"Kill _you_," Draco commented. "This was your idea."

Harry made an impatient sound, so Malfoy mounted his broom and pushed off.

They _Apparated_ on the outskirts of Carlisle, luckily in a deserted field. A very muddy deserted field. Draco disgustedly yanked his feet out of the sucking mud and got back on his broom.

"Malfoy! We could be spotted by Muggles!"

"I don't bloody care! I'm not walking through ankle-deep mud when I have a damned broom in my hand!"

He heard Harry sigh and after a short jaunt, they reached a dirt road lined in huge oak trees. Draco spent a ludicrous amount of time trying to scrape the mud from his boots before Harry cursed and shot a _Scourgify_ spell at them. Draco tsked.

"What if a Muggle had seen that?"

"Do you see any Muggles?" Harry shouted.

"Thankfully not, or they would be wondering where the hell your loud voice is coming from. Do you plan to stay invisible the whole day? Not that I'm complaining because it spares me from looking at your ugly mug."

Harry pulled the cloak off.

"Do you plan to be obnoxious the whole day?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, I rather thought I would. Do you mind?"

Harry pulled at his black hair and Draco grinned. He planned to keep track of how many times Potter made that particular gesture, now that Draco could see him.

"Where do we go from here?"

"To the coast, Potter. If I remember the tale, I should be able to find it fairly quickly."

They were lucky to locate the cottage at all. If not for the broken chimney jutting from the surrounding bushes, they would have bypassed it completely. Brush and trees surrounded what remained of the building, which was perched on a windy promontory overlooking a rocky, crumbling cliff.

Draco and Harry picked their way carefully through the undergrowth, although Draco insistently blasted offending branches into powder with jets of green light until Harry yanked at his hair again. Two, thought Draco.

"Will you stop with the bloody magic?" he hissed. Draco threw him a hard glare.

"Relax. There are no Muggles around here at all. Why do you think Regulus chose this spot?"

"That was nearly two decades ago!"

"No kidding. What the hell are we looking for? Because unless it's green and shaped like a bush, we're going to have a hard time locating it."

The interior of the destroyed cottage was a mass of greenery. Even the rotting timbers were covered with a thick layer of moss. Harry looked around dejectedly.

"I don't know. I was hoping we would be able to find something, at least. It looks like this whole trip was a bloody waste of time."

"Not completely. You got to spend the afternoon basking in my perfection." Harry scowled, hand in hair. Three. Draco chuckled. "Actually, when we were at the Riddle House, Hermione cast a magical detection spell. Do you know it?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I think so, yeah." He tested a couple of spells and finally managed a faint glow. Unfortunately, the whole place had a dim residue of magic.

"All right," Draco said and sighed. "Teach me the spell. We will have to wade in there and see what is left. It will go faster with both of us."

The spell was relatively simple and quickly learned, so Draco and Harry separated to search the ruins. Over the next forty minutes they discovered broken potion bottles, a rusted cauldron, the burned and rotting covers of various illegible books, assorted containers with mostly unidentifiable potion ingredients, and a gold amulet that caused Harry to yelp in excitement until he cleaned off the grime to reveal a nearly worthless amulet containing a minor protection spell.

Draco was near the crumbling fireplace pressing various bricks to check for hidden compartments when he felt the floor shift beneath him. He froze in alarm.

"Oh shi—" he managed before the floor collapsed beneath him. He was down before he could so much as lift his wand. His head slammed into something hard and a searing pain shot through his leg, so intense he would have screamed if the breath hadn't been knocked out of him. He fought for air and tried to hold off the encroaching blackness.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled. Draco drew in a painful breath. He could hear Potter thumping around above him. Great. That was all he needed, for the idiot to fall atop him and break something else.

He blinked at the jagged span of light above. He had fallen about eight feet onto an uneven pile of something. The urge to succumb to blackness slowly faded and he cautiously lifted his wand.

"_Malfoy!_" Harry bellowed again.

"I'm alive, Potter! Be careful up there. I don't need you collapsing rest of the floor!"

The effort of shouting had sent pain exploding through both Draco's head and his right leg. He gasped and reluctantly lifted his wand. He raised his throbbing head and looked down. He groaned and shut his eyes against another wave of vertigo when he saw the thick splinter of wood jutting from his thigh.

Potter's head blocked the light from above.

"Are you all right? Do you want me to levitate you up?"

"Hell no! My leg—I think it's… impaled on something."

"Hold on! I'm coming down."

"I wasn't really planning to go anywhere," Draco said dryly, but Harry was gone.

A few mnutes later, a rope snaked down through the opening. Potter slid over the edge and climbed down hand over hand.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" Draco asked.

"My _Levitation_ spell is… not very precise."

"Oh, but you were willing to levitate me?"

"Of course."

Harry made it down and knelt beside Draco. He looked at Draco's thigh and swallowed hard. Worried green eyes met silver.

"It's a splintered piece of a broken beam. Still attached. We'll have to… pull your leg free."

Draco's jaw tightened, although he had already expected that to be the case.

"All right." He took a deep breath. "Let's do it."

"Hang on," Harry said. He stood and pulled out his wand. "I have to do something first."

He pointed his wand at Draco and a jet of bluish light was the last thing Malfoy saw.

Harry knelt down, working quickly. He did not know how long Malfoy would be out. The shard jutted about an inch out of the top of Draco's thigh. Harry wrenched at Draco's cloak and cut several strips to use as bandages. Then he steeled himself, got a solid grip on Malfoy's leg, and yanked.

The pain must have been excruciating, because Malfoy arched his back, gasped, and his eyes snapped open, negating the sleep spell. Harry put his hands over the wound, top and bottom, trying to staunch the blood flow. He held the pressure for a moment and then quickly wrapped the cloak strips tightly around Malfoy's thigh. He tied them off tightly.

"God, Malfoy. There's so much blood. We've got to get you to St. Mungo's."

"Did you search down here?" Draco asked.

"For what?"

"Anything! We're already here and I don't plan to come back, so get searching."

Harry glared, but cast the detection spell. Several spots about the cellar glowed.

"There," Draco said and pointed his wand toward a glowing portion of the floor. Harry hurried over and ripped at the boards. A moldering leather bag was revealed by a quick _Lumos_ spell. Harry hefted the bag and tugged it open. A small silver box fell into his hands.

He looked at Draco and then flipped the latch. He reached in and lifted the golden chain attached to an open locket. The inside of the locket was blackened. The locket spun slowly and the light glinted off the S insignia. Slytherin's locket.

"Regulus did destroy it," Harry breathed. He felt a sharp pang of sadness when he recalled the other locket, the fake locket Regulus Black had left for them to retrieve—the one that had ended in Dumbledore's death.

"Bring it," Draco said weakly. "We need to be certain."

Harry returned the locket to the silver box and stowed it in his pack with his Invisibility Cloak. He hurried back to Malfoy. It was difficult to see against the black bandage, but Harry could tell it was wet with blood.

"Time to go," he said.

"Don't forget the brooms." Harry tugged at his hair. Even wounded, Malfoy was a pain in the ass.

"_Accio_ brooms!" Harry snapped. They hurtled through the opening and into Harry's hand. "_Now_ can we go?"

"Almost. Take off your glasses."

"What?"

"Do you plan to burst into St. Mungo's and announce to everyone that Harry Potter has arrived? Perhaps you should take out an ad in The Daily Prophet."

Harry took off his glasses and stowed them in his shirt pocket. Draco tapped him on the head and muttered a spell. Harry's head felt ice-cold for a moment.

Malfoy touched his own head with his wand and Harry watched in amazement as Draco's hair darkened.

"That will have to do. Let's go."

Harry knelt down and slid his right arm around Draco's shoulders, since he did not have a free hand. His right held his wand and his left gripped their brooms.

"Make one comment and I'll leave your ass here, Malfoy," Harry warned. "I swear it."

"You're terribly sexy when you're forceful, Potter," Draco breathed huskily. Harry shut his eyes, prayed for strength, and _Disapparated_.

They _Apparated_ into the lobby at St. Mungo's. Harry dropped the brooms and lifted Malfoy, who seemed barely conscious after the strain of _Apparition_. A witch hurried up to them.

"My… brother was in a… flying accident," Harry blurted, wishing he had thought to come up with a story.

Another hospital employee hurried up and quickly levitated Malfoy to an elevator. "Check him in, please. They will tell you where to go afterward. Your brother should be fine."

Harry watched Malfoy disappear and then he picked up the brooms and walked to the front desk.

"Name of patient?" the witch on duty asked calmly.

"…David Masters," Harry replied, pulling a name from the ether of panic.

"Nature of injury?"

Harry explained the flying accident, elaborating a bit for effect.

"How will you be paying for this?"

Harry reached absently into his pocket and pulled out a handful of Galleons. He set them on the counter and the witch blinked at him in surprise.

"Cash," she said.

"Say, if an underage wizard happened to _Apparate_ into St. Mungo's with a patient… in an emergency…"

The witch smiled. "Don't you worry, dearie. The Ministry sort of turns a blind eye to underage magic when St. Mungo's is involved. They certainly won't punish any twelve-year-old who _Apparates_ their injured grandparent to the hospital. They might investigate, but it would be bad form to fine people in an emergency. Now, if you go over to the elevators, they can direct you to your brother."

Harry nodded. He noticed a bright spot of blood on his cuff and another on his forearm. His hands were covered in blood, dirt, and grime, so he stopped at the lavatory on the way to the elevator.

He gaped in shock when he saw his image in the mirror. No wonder no one had stared at him and looked for his scar. For one thing, he had grown his hair out nearly to his eyes in order to cover the scar, and for another his hair was now white-blonde. Without his glasses, he was completely unrecognizable. He turned his head this way and that. His new hair was striking against his green eyes. He laughed at his handsome reflection. No wonder Malfoy was so conceited.

Harry shook off his bemusement and washed his hands and face before heading upstairs to find Malfoy.

Draco lay back against the pillows, looking as handsome as ever, but extremely un-Malfoy-like with raven-black hair. If possible, he was even better-looking with the contrast of his silver eyes below the dark locks. He looked paler than usual.

"Better, David?" Harry asked, stressing the name.

Malfoy nodded. "They fixed it. My leg was broken, too. Go figure. And I had a concussion."

"That explains your attempt to kiss me."

Malfoy actually grinned at the riposte. His lids fluttered shut over grey eyes. His smile faded. "I'm bloody tired."

"You lost a lot of blood. We need to get back so you can rest."

Malfoy nodded without opening his eyes. "They're fixing my clothes. Should be back with them shortly."

Draco was bare to the waist, where the bed sheet was pulled over his legs. Harry saw a thin white line bisecting Malfoy's torso in a jagged scar. He swallowed hard. Malfoy wore a permanent legacy of Harry's _Sectumsempra_ attack. Not for the first time, Harry felt a twinge of regret. Draco's eyes flew open and met Harry's, but a nurse burst into the room with a bundle of clothing.

"Here you are, Mr. Masters. Mended and cleaned and good as new, just like your leg." She stopped and blinked at Harry. "And you must be the other Mr. Masters. As soon as your brother is dressed, you may check him out." She giggled. "Brothers. My, you're both so very handsome. One so fair and the other so dark."

Harry chuckled at that. "You have no idea."

Malfoy rubbed a temple. "Can we just get out of here, _brother_?"

Harry waited in the hall until Draco limped out. Harry looked at him in concern, but Malfoy shook his head.

"It's just tender. I can walk. Let's get out of here before someone recognizes us."

They made it downstairs and nearly to the front doors without incident. Harry was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the front door swung open and they were nearly run down by Rufus Scrimgeour and Percy Weasley. For a shocked moment, Harry's eyes met Scrimgeour's. The Minister's thick brows drew upward in surprise and Harry stammered a quick apology before he hurried out. He heard Percy say, "Bloody familiar, both of them. I just can't think where…"

Harry pushed open the door and shoved his way out. Malfoy stopped.

"I'll take us back to Hogwarts. We don't want you in any trouble."

Harry didn't waste time arguing. Malfoy reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder just as the door burst open and Scrimgeour yelled, "Wait!" The Minister leveled his wand at them an instant too late.

Draco took them away.


	30. Chapter 30 The Hog's Head

**Chapter Thirty – The Hog's Head**

Hermione watched Draco and Harry leave the Great Hall. She moved to follow, but Ron grabbed her arm.

"Hey, Hermione, now that Fred and George are here, they can teach you those new spells they showed me and Harry."

"You can teach her those, little brother," said Fred.

"Or Harry can."

"We've got new ones to show you today."

"That's why we're here."

"What is Malfoy doing here?" Fred asked.

"And why hasn't Harry killed him, yet?"

"It's kind of a long story," Hermione said absently and detached Ron's fingers from her arm. "Ron can tell you."

"You know, I don't remember the part about Luna very well," Ron said. "You should tell it. After all, you brought the git here, remember?"

Hermione glared at Ron's bitter tone.

"You know perfectly well why I did! I suppose you'd prefer that we had left poor Neville in Voldemort's hands?"

Ron scowled. "Of course not. I just wish you'd left Malfoy somewhere else."

"Yes, like back at Malfoy Manor to be tortured and killed with his parents."

She got to her feet and stormed out before Ron could stop her. She sighed. She supposed she shouldn't be so upset with Ron. How could she expect him to get over his hatred of Malfoy so quickly? He hadn't been through the same situations with Draco that she had. She paused in the front hall and wondered where Harry and Draco had gone.

She started upstairs, figuring the library to be the most likely neutral place. Draco certainly wouldn't let Harry into the Slytherin common room, nor would Harry allow Draco into the Gryffindor common room, especially if Ginny had retreated there.

To Hermione's annoyance, the library was deserted. She sighed heavily. Maybe they had gone outside. It looked to be a beautiful day. She fingered the coin on her chest, but decided against using it. If Draco was with Harry, he most likely wouldn't answer her. She went outside and headed for the Quidditch Pitch. Hopefully they weren't doing anything stupid, like practicing Quidditch. That would most likely involve trying to knock each other off brooms and sending Bludgers after one another.

The Quidditch Pitch was empty but for a flock of birds. Out of patience, she grabbed the Galleon and tried to contact Draco. There was no response. Either he was ignoring her or he wasn't wearing his coin.

She went back inside and stopped off at the Slytherin common room. It was completely empty. She even looked in Draco's room while half-expecting him to be waiting there to pounce on her. By then, she was heartily frustrated and stalked straight to the Gryffindor common room to ascertain that Harry didn't have anything to do with Draco's latest disappearance. As it turned out, he did.

Ron was sitting on the sofa folding a piece of parchment into a lousy semblance of an origami animal. He started when she approached and then looked extremely guilty.

"What?" she demanded.

He wordlessly handed her the note.

_Malfoy and I are checking out the RAB connection. I'll be perfectly safe, so stop worrying. Cover for me. H_

The parchment was crumpled in her fist before she could stop herself.

"Did you know about this?" she gritted to Ron.

"Not until I saw the note! I didn't see him at all after he left the Great Hall. I only found the note a minute ago—he left it on my bed."

Hermione was fuming. "Of all the bloody reckless, dangerous— We can't even go help them because we have no idea where they went!"

She wanted to rage at Ron for keeping her in the Great Hall when she should have been with Draco, reading the message he'd received. She sat down across from Ron instead, feeling helpless and somewhat betrayed.

"He should have told me," she said quietly.

"He couldn't tell us or we would've demanded to come along," Ron said and she didn't bother to correct his assumption that she meant Harry. "Hopefully, they'll be back by dinner so we don't have to stave off any questions." Ron got to his feet. "Fred and George want us in the Charms classroom. You might want to fetch Ginny or she'll be even madder than she is now. I wouldn't mention Harry, either."  
Hermione wasn't in the mood to learn new spells, nor deal with Ginny's temper tantrums. She wanted to figure out where Harry and Draco had gone.

"You go ahead. I'll be along with Ginny shortly."

Ron gave her a dubious look, but went. Hermione went up and told Ginny to meet them in the Charms classroom. Ginny glared at her from her position on the bed where she was scribbling furiously into a journal.

"I thought you'd be done with diaries after…" Hermione said.

"It's no diary. It's a story. It started as a love story about me and Harry, but it's now turned into a tale where Harry is brutally maimed."

Hermione was shocked.

"You don't seriously want that to happen?"

"Of course not. But in the story, Harry is bedridden and I have to nurse him back to health." She scowled. "It's probably the only way I'd get to spend time alone with him. Sometimes I wish he wasn't the Savior of the Wizarding World. Makes it bloody hard to have any kind of normal relationship."

"I'm starting to think there is no such thing as a normal relationship," Hermione said quietly. Ginny looked at her quizzically. Hermione forced a smile.

"Don't mind me. I'm in a rotten mood today."

"Me, too. Let's go torture Fred and George," Ginny suggested.

"Okay. I'll meet you there. First I need to go ask Lupin something."

"I'd ask what, but I'm sure it's super secret," Ginny said bitterly.

Hermione laughed. "You really are in a rotten mood."

"You have no idea."

It took Hermione forever to locate Lupin. She finally found him in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. He seemed surprised when she entered the room.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked before he could ask her the same question. He looked around ruefully.

"I spent so much time in here that I find it somewhat familiar. I come here to think sometimes. Tonks thinks it's dreadful. Very gloomy."

"I don't. You were an excellent teacher. Best we had."

Lupin smiled somewhat sadly.

"Well, I doubt you sought me out to discuss my stint as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. What can I do for you?"

"I have another question about Regulus Black."

Lupin looked puzzled. "Why do you keep asking about him? I haven't even thought about him in years."

"Mostly curiosity. I keep wondering what he might have done to earn a death sentence from Voldemort. Did he do something to actually harm Voldemort? Or was it a simple case of annoyance? Also, it's been suggested that he didn't really die. That he went into hiding somewhere."

Lupin sighed. "Well, that one I can confirm, anyway. Regulus is definitely dead. Sirius wasn't allowed to attend the funeral, being out of favor, of course, but we all went along later so he could pay his respects to his brother. James, being James, opened the coffin when Peter pulled Sirius outside for a moment. It was most assuredly Regulus. James said there wasn't a mark on him, so it was most likely _Avada Kedavra_."

Hermione had thought it unlikely that Regulus was alive; anyway, otherwise he would have surfaced long before now. Then again, Peter Pettigrew would still have been masquerading as a rat, but for Sirius. However, for someone as egocentric as Regulus apparently was… it would have been difficult to stay in hiding.

"We also checked out the place where he died, long after the Dark Mark had dissipated, but we found nothing unusual. The place had been burnt to the ground, so if Regulus had left any sort of message, it was lost in the fire."

"You know where he died?" Hermione asked, striving to keep the excitement from her voice.

"Yes… somewhere on the northwestern coast. What was the name of that place…?"

Remember, remember, remember, Hermione willed silently, but Lupin shook his head.

"It's been so long. I can't recall. It doesn't matter, anyway."

Hermione wanted to tear at her hair and howl that it did matter, but she didn't dare make Lupin suspicious. If he found out Harry had fled the school, the entire Order would be in a dither. She nodded and tried to cover her disappointment. She would just have to trust Harry and Draco not to get into too much trouble. The thought made her cringe. How could they not?

She left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and muttered to herself.

"If you two make it back here in one piece, I'm going to strangle you both."

Draco staggered when they appeared at the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Harry swore roundly. Malfoy probably shouldn't have _Disapparated_ them both after losing so much blood. Harry steadied him, but Malfoy shook him off.

"Hands off, Potter. I don't swing that way."

"Shut up, Malfoy. Come on. Let's stop at the Hog's Head for some food. At this rate, you'll pass out before we make it halfway to the school. No one should recognize us at the moment."

"Scrimgeour nearly did."

"I don't think so. I think he was just suspicious and wanted to know who we were. He's fairly clever."

"For an obnoxious git."

"Yeah."

They pushed into the Hog's Head, which was decently crowded, given the proximity to the dinner hour. They took a table near the door and a busty barmaid sized them up with an interested smile. Harry flushed, but Malfoy looked her up and down with an air of long practice. Draco ordered food and a couple of ales and she sauntered off with a coy look over her shoulder.

"I'm surprised you didn't choose the Three Broomsticks," Malfoy commented. "This place seems a bit rough for you."

Harry didn't reply. Even though Madam Rosmerta had been under the _Imperious Curse_, it was difficult for Harry to see her without feeling betrayed.

Malfoy ate his kidney pie like a starving man and chugged two ales in short order. Harry finished most of his meal and sipped at his ale. He was none too thrilled with the unclean state of his glass. He wondered how many meal remains were caked to it. Malfoy finally sat back with a contented sigh. He looked so unlike himself with black hair that Harry almost felt like he sat with a stranger.

Malfoy propped an elbow on the table and started on his third ale. For a moment, Harry envied the air of casual elegance that accompanied Draco's every move. He wondered if it came naturally or was something Malfoy had to work at.

"I suppose I owe _you_ a bloody favor, now, too," Draco said morosely.

Harry shook his head. "Actually, I was hoping this kind of squared us after the whole _Sectumsempra_ incident."

Malfoy's relief was evident. "Thank God. It was bad enough owing Weasley." He grimaced. Harry's eyes narrowed.  
"You owed Ron?"

"The damned Weasel showed up when the Carrows were having a bit of fun using the _Cruciatus Curse_ on me. Frankly, I'm surprised he stopped them."

"Did Ron happen to call in this debt?"

Malfoy's silver eyes measured him for a moment and then flicked to the white-haired bartender, who seemed to be watching them.

"Did you ever have a thing for Granger, Potter?"

Harry was surprised at the change of subject.

"You mean a boyfriend/girlfriend thing?" Harry laughed. "No."

"Why not? Don't you think you two would make the perfect little Gryffindor couple?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they say opposites attract, you know. She's brilliant and you're an idiot. She's… well, she's rather turned into an attractive package—for a Mudblood—and you're homely as hell. She's read about a million books and you've read… what? Six?" Malfoy laughed.

Harry scowled and shrugged. "I've just never thought of her that way. She's always treated me as her rather dimwitted younger brother."

"Maybe you should kiss her. Dispense with those brotherly feelings," Malfoy suggested slyly. Harry thought about it for a moment. Hermione had become nice-looking over the past year. He thought about kissing her and had to choke back a laugh. He could picture Hermione evaluating his kiss in a clinical fashion and jotting off a checklist for him in areas that needed improvement. He shook his head.

"No, thank you. Never happen."

"She's a lot more woman than those scrawny things you usually favor. I mean, Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley? Have some taste, Potter."

"There is nothing wrong with Ginny Weasley!"

"Have you _met_ her mother? If little Ginny follows in those hefty footsteps, she'll be a domineering, shrewish fishwife by the time she's twenty. I wouldn't even wish that on you, Potter."

"I don't think your opinion of anyone named Weasley is exactly unbiased. Frankly, I think _you_ would be a better match for Hermione than I would." He grinned as Malfoy's eyes flashed.

"What do you mean by that?"

"As you said, opposites attract. She's noble and good; you're pure evil. She's sweet and kind; you're an obnoxious prat—"

"You're hilarious, Potter." Draco's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you're actually trying to interest me in Granger? I thought she was your _friend_."

Harry snorted. "You have a point. Regardless, I think she should be allowed to make up her _own_ _mind_ on the subject."

Malfoy's grey gaze measured him. "What are you saying, exactly?"

"I'm saying… why does that bartender keep watching us?"

Draco didn't bother to look over his shoulder. He shrugged.

"Probably because he finally figured out who you are. I'm sure a properly irate group of Phoenix members will be here shortly to escort you back."

Harry stared at him. "The bartender is in league with the Order? How do you know?"

Draco burst out laughing. "Can you possibly be that dense? Oh wait, I forgot who I'm talking to. The bartender is Aberforth Dumbledore, you idiot. Don't tell me your great pal Albus never mentioned it. Did he not let you in on a single secret? Ever?"

Apparently not, Harry thought angrily. He looked at the bartender carefully, trying to find a resemblance to Dumbledore. There wasn't much, except maybe the nose. Where Dumbledore's eyes had been wise and kindly, Aberforth's were calculating and suspicious. His beard was unkempt and dirty, as were his clothing.

"How is it that _you_ know who he is?" Harry demanded.

"It's common Death Eater knowledge. It pays to keep tabs on Order members, although I'm certain there are some at the Ministry the Dark Lord doesn't know about. Yet."

The bartender left the bar suddenly and wandered over to sit at their table.

"If you two are finished, I suggest you get your arses outside. Wait for me 'round back and I'll escort you back where you belong." His blue eyes were cold when they looked at Harry. "Looks like Albus was right about you bring reckless, eh?"

Harry met his gaze serenely and said nothing. Aberforth actually chuckled.

"No excuses? Cor, you are your father's son. Let's hope that doesn't get you killed. Now, scoot. Lot's of rough customers hereabouts. You're ripe pickings for more than You-Know-Who's followers. Robbers and ruffians don't care who you are. They'll kill you for your coin just the same."

Malfoy snorted as they got to their feet and took up their brooms from the rack near the door.

"After the day I've had, I'll bloody welcome a fight."

"Are you drunk?" Harry asked.

Outraged silver eyes flashed at him.

"Malfoys don't get drunk. Especially after only three small ales."

Harry shook his head and they walked to the rear of the building. The back door opened, but no robbers emerged, only Aberforth Dumbledore, who had his wand out. His eyes carefully searched every bush and tree. Harry didn't expect trouble. It was hours yet until dusk, with the sky cloudless and the longest day of the year only a couple of weeks away.

"Maybe you should put on your cloak and hide, Chosen One," Malfoy suggested. Harry ignored that.

"How long does this spell last?" he asked, pointing at his pale hair with his wand.

"About twelve hours. Or until I cancel it."

Harry grinned. He couldn't wait until he saw Ginny's face when she saw him.

"On your brooms," Aberforth ordered. "Let's go."

Aberforth walked while Harry and Draco floated in front of him, heading for Hogwarts.


	31. Chapter 31 Mistaken Identity

**Chapter Thirty One – Mistaken Identity**

Hermione was in no mood to listen to the Weasley family's favorite pastime—bickering amongst themselves—so she wandered aimlessly around the first floor for a long time, thinking. There must be some way to figure out where Draco and Harry had gone. Although by now, they could be finished with their search and on their way back. She stopped in surprise when she encountered Mrs. Norris in an otherwise deserted corridor. The cat hissed at her and yowled loudly.

Hermione looked around quickly, feeling guilty even though she wasn't doing anything wrong. If Mrs. Norris was here, Filch had to be lurking somewhere nearby. She heard a whisper of cloth and ran for the nearby stairs. She took the steps two at a time and then paused and leaned over the railing. Mrs. Norris was visible below, partway up the first riser, watching her.

"Who's there, Mrs. Norris?" she heard. "Aye, there are many sneaky 'appenings 'ere this summer, eh? But we're keepin' our eyes open, aren't we, Mrs. Norris?"

Hermione edged quietly back from the edge and continued up the stairs, hugging the outer walls. She wondered how safe it was to have the Order in residence with Filch snooping around. He had always obeyed Dumbledore, albeit grudgingly, but who did he owe allegiance to, now?

She continued upward until she found herself on the Astronomy Tower. She walked to the edge and peered toward the horizon, hoping to see two figures on brooms approaching. The blue sky was empty in all directions. She sighed.

Inspiration suddenly struck and she hurried back to the ground floor. She took a moment to catch her breath and massage her aching legs. They would not thank her for rushing up and down the stairs, although she wouldn't have to worry about fitting into her jeans for awhile, at least. When she could breathe normally again, she hurried to Classroom Eleven, looking for Firenze. She found him in his remade classroom, lying on the grass in a circle of flowers in a pose of meditation. She stopped, not willing to interrupt.

"Come forth, Hermione Granger," the centaur said in his calm voice. "What troubles you?"

"I need to ask you a question."

"Not about the future, I presume?"

She nearly sneered, but caught herself in time. She didn't believe a jot in Divination. How could the future be foretold when any chance decision could change the outcome from moment to moment?

"Definitely not. The present, actually. It's not Divination I'm interested in, but Scrying."

Firenze nodded. "An ancient art, but useful. You seek someone?"

"Yes. Can you help me? I just need to know if they're all right."

"I can help you. You will need to bring the necessary supplies. A large silver bowl filled with pure spring water and something that belongs to the person in question, preferably something personal. An item of jewelry, a lock of hair, or something they have handled often enough to leave an imprint of their essence."

"That's it?"

"The method is simple. Achieving the goal is not."

She nodded. "I'll be back shortly."

She ran out and nearly bowled over Tonks, who was heading for the front door. She steadied Hermione and then gave her an irritated look.

"Guess where I'm going?" Tonks asked. Hermione was stymied.

"I've no idea."

"I'm going to the front gate to let in _Harry Potter_," Tonks gritted.

"Oh." Hermione's relief overwhelmed all possible guilt.

"Yes, _oh_. What are you thinking to let him wander about like that? After all we've done to try and keep him safe?"

"Do you think I would have let him go alone?" Hermione snapped, stung.

Tonks measured her. "Probably not, but I doubt you would have stopped him—"

A loud voice bellowed from the Great Hall and Tonks bolted like a flash for the front doors, dragging Hermione with her.

"Rufus Scrimgeour is here. He's demanding to know where Harry is. Apparently, he went to London to check on him and discovered the Dursleys and Harry…"

"Gone."

"Yeah." Tonks hurried down the path as she spoke and Hermione had to rush to keep up with her.

"Then, there was some incident at St. Mungo's and Percy swears he saw Harry, although he couldn't be certain for some reason or another… Either way, we need to produce Harry immediately. Aberforth sent a Patronus to McGonagall, but she's busy trying to stave off Scrimgeour."

"Aberforth?" The name sounded vaguely familiar to Hermione.

"Aberforth Dumbledore. He's the proprietor at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade."

"Dumbledore's _brother_?" It took Hermione a moment to process that information. "Why doesn't he just open the gates?"

Tonks chuckled.

"Dumbledore insisted Aberforth never be given access to Hogwarts. I'm not sure if they got on well, frankly. Aberforth is something of a black sheep. Also, due to his dubious clientele, it's very possible for him to be captured or put under the _Imperius Curse_. It's safer to give him as little knowledge as possible."

As they approached the gates, Hermione could see a tall man waiting with two people hovering on brooms. She breathed a sigh of extreme relief.

"Why don't they just fly over?"

"They can't. They'd be stuck there like flies on flypaper. No one gets into Hogwarts anymore, by any means, without permission. Scrimgeour came by the Floo Network."

Hermione was reluctantly impressed with the school's defenses, even though it was a definite problem when it came to sneaking in and out.

"So, you can leave, but not return," she commented.

"Exactly."

Hermione was close enough now to pick out Draco's silver hair, but as she approached, she stared at him in puzzlement. There was something strangely different about him…

Draco watched as Tonks and Hermione arrived. Aberforth waved briefly and started back down the path toward Hogsmeade. Apparently, he wasn't very talkative, even with other Order members.

Tonks looked through the bars at Draco.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said with a short tone and then she blinked at him. Draco grinned as her eyes flicked from him to Harry.

"What in the—?" Hermione breathed.

Draco hopped off his broom.

"Well, we figured—" he began, but an arm suddenly clamped around his throat as he was grabbed from behind. Draco saw a frozen tableau of shock on the faces of Harry, Tonks, and Hermione, and then he felt the familiar yanking sensation of _Disapparation_.

When the rough arm released him, he collapsed in a weak heap, feeling nauseous and dizzy. The smell of dark earth and rotting leaves was strong in his nostrils and he gagged for a moment. Too much _Apparition_ in one day… And he shouldn't have had that third ale…

He felt harsh hands about his person and knew his wand had been taken. Magical ropes twisted around his arms and legs. Someone chuckled and moved away. Draco fought down his weakness and blinked at his captor.

"Ho, that was just too easy, Potter! I captured Harry Potter! All alone! Let's see them laugh at Wormtail, now, let's just see!"

Wormtail. Draco heaved himself onto his haunches—a difficult process with his hands bound behind his back—and looked at the ratlike man cavorting happily. He glanced around. They looked to be surrounded by trees and undergrowth. A forest. But, which forest?

"Actually, I think they'll do more than laugh at you," Draco said dryly.

Wormtail stopped dancing and turned to stare at the sound of Draco's voice. He raced over and snatched Draco's chin with his metal hand, clenching hard. Draco glared into Wormtail's disbelieving face.

"But… I was there at the Hog's Head! I heard Potter's voice! I followed you down the path, waiting for you to get off the damned broom…" Wormtail was breathing hard and his hand squeezed even harder, nearly crushing Draco's jaw. "_What are you doing masquerading as Potter?_" Wormtail bellowed. Draco threw himself backward, out of Pettigrew's grasp. He worked his bruised jaw carefully. Potter was lucky Peter's little rat eyes were neither too keen in a gloomy, smoke-filled tavern, nor outside at a distance.

Wormtail was dancing again, but in a rage this time. He rubbed his hands together in agitation, flesh against metal.

"What is Draco Malfoy doing in Harry Potter's company _looking_ like Harry Potter?" Wormtail asked himself. "Oh, the Dark Lord will be wanting an answer to that question! I think he'll be pleased with Wormtail, after all. And Harry Potter is at Hogwarts." Wormtail tittered happily, an irritating sound that chilled Draco to the bone. He began to realize the gravity of his situation.

"Where the hell are we?" Draco asked and pushed himself back into a sitting position.

"All in good time, little Malfoy," Wormtail crooned. "We'll go see the Dark Lord soon. Very soon. Just one little errand, first."

Wormtail walked to the edge of the small clearing and peered into the dense forest as if waiting for someone. Draco looked around carefully, trying to find some method of escape. His broom lay nearby. A promising sight, although he couldn't quite figure out how he would be able to fly the thing with his hands and feet bound. He began to inch toward it, nevertheless.

He wondered where his wand had gone, but assumed Wormtail had tucked it into the dirty black Death Eater robes he wore. Draco suddenly regretted placing Hermione's coin in his trunk back at Hogwarts. Not that he would have been able to tell her where he was… but at least he wouldn't have felt quite so alone.

Once again, Draco Malfoy was on his own. For the first time in his life, the thought made him very depressed.

Damn those Gryffindors. They were sucking the Malfoy right out of him.


	32. Chapter 32 The Forest

**Chapter Thirty Two – The Forest**

Hermione watched in shock as Draco disappeared.

Harry leaped forward, but it was too late. They were gone. He turned to look at Hermione and Tonks, who was frantically tapping at the lock with her wand.

"Who was it?" Harry yelled.

"Wormtail," Hermione said woodenly. "He must have been a rat—hiding until he could strike…"

Tonks finally got the lock open and wrenched at the gate. She dragged Harry inside. Hermione gazed at Harry's silver hair and felt like crying.

"We'll never find him," she said hoarsely. "Wormtail will take him back to Voldemort and Voldemort will ki… ki…" The tears did gather, then, but Harry grabbed her shoulders.

"We'll find him." He gave her a small shake. "Don't quit on me, now! We're going to need that brain of yours. Get on the broom."

He straddled his broom and even though she hated flying through the air on a tiny wooden twig, she didn't hesitate. She gripped Harry's waist tightly and pressed her cheek into his back as they raced toward the castle.

"Hey!" Tonks yelled behind them. "Wait for me!"

"Scrimgeour is here!" Hermione yelled after a moment.

Harry didn't stop at the front door, but flew up and over the parapet to hover over Gryffindor Tower. Hermione hated being ridiculously high off the ground, and had to pry her eyes open when Harry yelled, "Open the window!"

She peered over to see a nearby window that was open a crack. She reached out a hand and yanked at it. Harry moved the broom away and the window pulled all the way open. She let go and he maneuvered the broom around and through the window.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when they touched down in Harry's room. Harry propped his broom against the wall. "Okay, now how do we find Malfoy?"

Hermione sank down on his bed, feeling painfully helpless. She twisted her hands together. "I don't know. He had the spelled Galleon I gave him, but he must have taken it off before you left. I've been trying to find you two all day." She looked somewhat accusingly at Harry. "Frankly, I'm surprised you're willing to go after him."

Harry shrugged. "I won't leave anyone to Voldemort's mercy. Not even Malfoy. Although, he really wasn't that bad, today. Obnoxious as usual, but he doesn't seem to have that priggish, mean edge that he used to. And look what he did to my hair! Stunning, isn't it?"

Hermione smiled wanly, although the sight of it made her heart constrict with fear for Draco. "It's shocking, to say the least. Where are your glasses?"

Harry tugged them from his pocket and put them on.

"No wonder I was squinting all afternoon," he muttered.

He still looked abnormally cute. Like a studious version of Malfoy; all platinum hair and— She gasped and stood up.

"I nearly forgot! I asked Firenze to help me Scry for you. Maybe he can still try! Come on!"

She bolted down the steps and Harry followed, thankfully asking no questions. Ginny was sitting in the common room, scribbling on her story. She stared at them as they raced by.

"Hi, Ginny!" Harry yelled. "Bye, Ginny!"

Hermione groaned. The Weasley girl was going to completely kill him.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked just as Ginny's identical shout followed them out the portrait hole.

"The Slytherin common room! I need something of Draco's. And spring water. Where are we going to find spring water?"

"In the kitchen, of course. It's all spring water."

"You get the water, then. Make sure it's in a silver pitcher. Oh, and grab a large silver bowl. Take the bowl and the water to Firenze and I'll meet you there!"

They separated in the Front Hall just as Tonks entered the front door. Hermione waved, but didn't pause as she raced to the Slytherin common room. She thanked Draco heartily for not changing the password as she hurried to his room. She opened his trunk and snatched the coin that was lying atop a stack of books. She paused for a moment, looking at the braided chain that held the Galleon. She touched it in amazement.

It was made of strands of her own hair, braided together with thin cords of silver and green. She shook her head when she recalled how the locks had been torn out and smiled softly. She couldn't believe he had saved them…

Hermione shook off her musing and slipped the coin over her head to join her own. She needed to find something personal of Draco's… something imprinted with his essence… She immediately snatched his silver comb off the dressing table. If that didn't contain his essence, she greatly underestimated his ego. To her delight, the comb still contained a number of precious strands of silver-blonde.

Hermione ran back to Classroom Eleven.

Harry was seated before Firenze, who looked as if he hadn't moved from the last time she'd seen him. A large silver bowl sat on the grass before them. Hermione flung herself to her knees before the bowl, panting with exertion.

Firenze took the comb she held out to him.

"Relax, Hermione. This takes concentration and a still mind. Let go of your emotions. Clear your thoughts."

Hermione tried, but she had little patience for spells involving trancelike states. She wanted Firenze to cast the bloody thing and be done with it. She shut her eyes and stilled her breathing, trying to mimic a calm state so the centaur wouldn't insist on waiting all evening for her to relax.

Finally, Firenze said, "Let us begin." He slid Draco's comb into the bowl and waited for the ripples to subside. "We seek the owner of this item. May the ether part and bestow upon this liquid the image we request." Firenze passed his palm over the water. Once, then twice, then thrice. He didn't make a sound, but ice suddenly formed around the edges of the bowl and made a crystalline rim around the water like a circular frame.

Hermione and Harry leaned forward eagerly as mist began to rise from the water. Firenze moved his hand again over the bowl, three times in the other direction. The mist cleared instantly, seeming to sink into the water, which suddenly looked cloudy. Draco's comb was obscured. Colors began to swirl in the liquid: brown, green, and grey. Firenze whispered something Hermione could not make out, and the colors sharpened like a camera coming into focus.

She drew in a breath as Draco appeared. His black hair threw her for a moment and she glanced at Harry. Draco was bound hand and foot. He sat in the dirt near a clump of ferns, glaring to his right.

"Where is he?" Hermione whispered.

"A forest," said Harry.

"That could be anywhere!" she protested.

"Have patience," Firenze murmured. He made another slow movement and the scene pulled back. Draco's broom was visible and it was apparent he was moving unobtrusively toward it. At the edge of the pool, Wormtail came into view. His back was to Draco and he looked intently into the forest. He spun around quickly and stared at Draco. Wormtail reached into his robes and pulled out two wands—one brown and gnarled; one sleek and black. He put the black one in his silver hand and raised the other.

Wormtail's mouth moved, but Hermione and the others could make out no words. A jet of light suddenly shot toward Draco, who contorted in pain. Hermione gasped in horror. If she could have leaped into the pool and throttled Peter Pettigrew at that moment, she would have.

"_Crucio_," Harry murmured. His worried green eyes met hers for a moment.

"How will we ever find him?" she asked.

Firenze was studying the scene, which pulled back a bit more and shifted. A strangely shaped fallen log came into view. Firenze nodded.

"I know this place."

Hermione tried to steady the leap of hope at his words.

"Can you take us there?"

"No. But, I can tell you where it is."

Apparently, Wormtail was bored with waiting. He turned to look at Draco and pulled out both wands. His beady eyes flicked from Draco to his broom.

"Let me give you a taste of what the Dark Lord is going to do to you," Wormtail said and giggled. Draco braced himself for what he knew was coming, but it made no difference. During the brief interludes between excruciating pain, he reflected that he'd been _Crucioed_ far too often lately.

Wormtail seemed to enjoy tormenting Draco, for he kept it up until Draco lay bonelessly in the churned dirt, too weak to even resist. His body shook with the aftereffects of the torture.

Pettigrew panted from the exertion of casting curse after curse at Draco. He wiped an arm across his forehead and walked forward until he looked down at Draco's exhausted form.

"Not so handsome now, are you?" he sneered. He lifted a stumpy foot to stomp Draco, but Malfoy anticipated the move and quickly rolled forward, slamming into Wormtail's other leg. Off balance, Wormtail sprawled over Draco, who yelled, "_Accio_ wand!"

It was a tricky maneuver with his hands behind his back, but Draco's natural dexterity served him well. The wand snapped into his bound hands and he contorted swiftly as Wormtail rolled over, trying to level his wand at Draco. Malfoy's spell hit Wormtail first. _Stupefy_ was instantly followed by _Petrificus Totalus_ and Pettigrew lay in a frozen state of panic.

Draco spelled the ropes on his hands and feet and stood up shakily. He was disturbed by his own weakness, but determined not to reveal it to Pettigrew. To his disgust, Wormtail's silver hand groped and twitched at the earth, apparently immune to Draco's spells. Draco placed a booted foot on Wormtail's other hand and pried the brown wand from his immobile hand.

"I should stave your head in," Draco snarled and actually cast about for a moment, looking for a stone large enough to do the job. Only the thought of Hermione's displeasure halted him.

Instead, he held up Pettigrew's wand, grasped it in both hands, and snapped it cleanly in two. He threw the pieces aside with a satisfied smirk at Wormtail.

"Good luck using that to torture anyone," Draco said. He wiped the dirt from his face and tried to shake the debris from his hair. God, he hated to be dirty.

Draco turned back to Wormtail and conjured ropes. He wrapped them, mummy-like, around Pettigrew's body, covering him completely from toes to neck.

"Who are you meeting here, Peter?" Draco asked. "I'm going to release the spell so that you can talk to me. You will stay where you are or I will fry you where you lay."

He cancelled the Full Body-Bind and Pettrigrew blinked at him for the space of two heartbeats and then disappeared. Draco smiled as a rat leaped out of the now-limp ropes—and straight into the magical cage Draco had cast. Malfoy admired the glowing blue bars that encased the frantic Animagus. He tsked as if disappointed.

"Predictable to the end, eh Wormtail? Of course, these bars won't last forever, will they? We need something a bit more permanent." He flicked his wand and conjured a small iron crate. He levitated the glowing cage and maneuvered it into the iron box, which he then locked with a metallic click. The blue bars vanished, leaving Peter neatly trapped in the tiny iron cage.

"You see, Peter, during my short tenure as a prisoner in my own house," Draco explained, "I had plenty of time to sit around and think. I spent some of that time figuring out how to trap a rat like you. It took me nearly a week to perfect that little magic cage. Impressive, wasn't it?" He lifted the metal box by the handle and peered at the squeaking rat. "Of course, I had _this_ one sitting in my room just waiting to be conjured. It's solid iron. If you change back now, Wormtail, you will be a very compact cube of flesh."

He dropped the cage and smiled at the rat's squeal as it fell. Draco walked over and picked up his broom. A wave of vertigo washed over him at the movement and his hands shook as he leaned on the broom handle. He felt bone-deep weariness and knew he didn't dare _Disapparate_. He didn't have the energy. He glanced around at the deepening gloom and wished he knew where the hell they were. Regardless, it was time to go.

Draco froze at a whisper of sound behind him. He spun with a spell on his lips, but the newcomer was faster. Draco's wand sailed out of his hand and into a nearby bush. Draco swallowed, realizing he hadn't been afraid of Wormtail at all. He felt real fear now when he looked into Fenrir Greyback's yellow eyes. The werewolf stalked up to Draco and put his wand tip under Malfoy's chin.

"Well, well, well. The lost Malfoy pup," Fenrir growled. "You are looking far less dead than expected. Different, also, but still delectable." Greyback's eyes slid to the iron cage. He left Draco and walked over to the box, although he kept his wand pointed at Draco, who resisted the urge to propel his broom into the air. Greyback was too fast—he would simply blast Draco before he got ten feet off the ground. Fenrir picked up Wormtail's cage and then dropped it with a pained hiss. He shot a glare at Draco.

"Iron? That's playing nasty, Draco." He crouched down and peered through the bars at Peter. "Is that you, Wormtail? Got yourself snared by a little boy?" He laughed harshly. "I'd let you out, but I'd rather find out why you're in there. Draco and I are going to have a little chat. Aren't we, Draco?"

In one swift movement, Draco _Accioed_ his wand and attempted to _Disapparate_, but he was immobilized the instant his wand touched his hand.

Greyback sauntered back and plucked the wand from Draco's nerveless hand. He tossed it casually over a shoulder. "No, you mustn't leave yet, little morsel. Not yet." His voice was a sibilant whisper and his eyes gleamed with mad excitement. Draco felt panic slowly steal over him and tried to relax. He would need every coherent thought he possessed to get out of this alive. Fenrir released the spell, but Draco stood his ground defiantly.

"Where have you been, Draco? Your parents have been so worried." His tone was pleasant and conversational. "What are you doing here? And why is Wormtail locked up in a little metal box? Are you betraying the Dark Lord? Can you honestly be that stupid?"

Draco was silent while his mind sought any plausible lie that would buy him some time. His broom was still clutched in his left hand. If only Fenrir would move away. It was probably useless, but he would have to try to fly out.

Except Fenrir moved even closer. His lips ricked open over his wickedly sharp teeth. Draco nearly gagged at the stench of the werewolf's breath—it reeked of rotting meat and blood.

"The ever-present Malfoy pride. Ice cold and haughty, just like your parents, aren't you, Draco? Well, boy, I've wanted to shatter your frozen demeanor for a long time, now. Yes, you know I've been watching you, don't you, Draco?" Greyback's face was nearly pressed against Draco's and his lips moved close to Draco's ear as he whispered, "I can't wait to break you. You'll beg me for mercy before I'm done with you."

Draco's skin crawled and the fear on top of his exhaustion caused him to tremble slightly. He took a deep breath and dug into the last vestiges of his willpower in order to maintain control. If he showed any sign of weakness, Greyback would rend him like a bag of suet.

Greyback chuckled. "Do you want to know the fun part?" he added, still murmuring in Draco's ear. "I won't even need to use magic."

Swiftly, Fenrir moved and Draco felt the werewolf's tongue, hot and wet, caress his collarbone. It slid languidly up Draco's neck and followed his jugular to the hollow beneath Draco's ear. Draco closed his eyes and shuddered uncontrollably. Fenrir chuckled at his reaction and Draco felt Fenrir's sharp teeth tug on his earlobe.

Overcome with horror, Draco acted in sheer reflex. He gripped his broom with both hands and heaved with all his strength. The angle was off and he had no leverage, but the end of the broom caught Greyback sharply on the temple. The werewolf grunted and reared back slightly, enough for Draco to follow the movement with a flip of his broom. The bristle end struck Fenrir in the face.

Draco instantly willed his broom into the air, but the werewolf was lightning fast. Malfoy's feet were barely off the ground when Fenrir's claws hooked his waist and bore him roughly to the ground. Draco's head slammed into the earth, dazing him for a moment.

Greyback snatched the broom and tossed it across the clearing. He sat back on his haunches and regarded Draco. Far from being angry, he actually laughed in delight.

"I was afraid you were going to make this too easy for me, but you are a true Malfoy, aren't you? You'll fight me to your last breath." Draco glared for reply, although he had the chilling fear that his last breath would come sooner than later.

Greyback suddenly leaped on him and pinned him to the earth. Draco could barely breathe with the weight of the werewolf on his chest. Both his wrists were gripped in Fenrir's hands, although one still held Greyback's wand. The end of it gouged painfully into Draco's flesh. He twisted his hand in an attempt to reach the wand, but Fenrir squeezed until Draco felt his wrist bones grind together. He winced.

"I have plans for you, Malfoy" Greyback murmured and his teeth nipped at Draco's jaw, not quite hard enough to draw blood. "Don't worry, you're a spot old for my liking. I'll only bleed you a bit today. Just enough for a taste." The werewolf slid his rough lips down to Draco's neck. He opened his mouth wide and Draco felt sharp teeth against his flesh. Greyback bit down gently, then harder, sucking slightly and tasting Draco with his tongue. Draco tried to throw him off, but he was too tightly held—he could barely move. Surprisingly, the teeth released.

"One week, Draco. Do you know what happens in one week?" Fenrir murmured against his throat.

Draco did.

"_Full moon_," Fenrir said with satisfaction. He leaned upward slightly to look into Draco's eyes. The werewolf showed his dreadful teeth in a smile. "Black hair suits you. It makes you look darker and more sinister. You're practically perfect."

Draco nearly forgot to breathe. Fenrir's voice was low and conspiratorial, likely so Wormtail's sharp ears would not hear.

"Did you figure it out, Draco? You're a smart lad. I'm taking you with me. I'll hide you away where no one will find you. For seven… short… days. It's convenient everyone thinks you're dead. Wormtail is long overdue for a little accident, now that you've nicely penned him. He won't be talking. And then, next Friday, _you_ will become like _me_." He threw back his head and laughed wickedly.

A werewolf.


	33. Chapter 33 Borrowed Luck

**Chapter Thirty Three – Borrowed Luck**

Hermione and Harry were caught running from Firenze's room. Hermione's heart sank, but she had known they were in trouble the minute Harry had run into Aberforth. Unfortunately, they were confronted by a formidable group: Rufus Scrimgeour, McGonagall, Moody, Percy Weasley, and Jack Williamson.

"You see?" McGonagall said after a shocked look at Harry's altered appearance. "Here is Mr. Potter, now. His guardians suggested he stay with Hermione, who is here doing some research for me during the break. I am sponsoring her." Harry looked at Hermione, who was amazed at McGonagall's flawless ability to lie like a trooper.

Scrimgeour's jaw worked and he seemed personally affronted by Harry's platinum hair.

"Succumbing to fads, Potter? I would think you, of all people, would maintain a more serious demeanor."

Harry shrugged. "I thought you and the Ministry had Voldemort under control. You don't need me at all, right? I thought I might join a band or something."

Jack snorted a laugh that he covered with a muted cough. Hermione had no patience for verbal skirmishes when Draco was in the forest being tortured.

"Professor, I need to talk with you. It's very urgent," she said quietly after sidling to McGonagall's side.

"Why were you at St. Mungo's today?" Scrimgeour demanded. "And who was that with you?"

"I was visiting a friend," Harry snapped. "Frankly, I wasn't aware that I needed permission from the Ministry prior to visiting the hospital. I'll be sure to schedule my next injury."

"How dare you speak to the Minister that way? Don't be cheeky, Potter, we're only trying to help you," Percy said disapprovingly.

"I don't really feel it necessary to be followed around by the Ministry," Harry snarled.

"Professor, please," Hermione begged. McGonagall gave her a severe look, obviously still annoyed at Harry's departure. Hermione, realizing it might take forever to extract themselves from the group, suddenly clapped a hand to her stomach.

"I don't feel very well," she said shakily. She bolted for the stairs, sending a mental apology to Harry for deserting him while she tried to think of a way to remove him, also. She ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room and had to pause, gasping, while she clutched at a stitch in her side. The wizarding world was in severe need of elevators.

She hurried through the portrait hole and straight into a heated Weasley discussion involving Ginny, Ron, and the twins. Ron leaped to his feet.

"Where the hell have you been all day?" he demanded.

"Malfoy's been captured by Wormtail," she gasped, still holding her side. "He's in the forest. We've got to get him before Peter takes him to Voldemort!" None of the Weasleys moved. She scowled at the lot of them.

"Harry was waylaid by Rufus Scrimgeour and Percy in the Front Hall. I don't know how to get him away from there, if he hasn't already gotten himself clapped in irons by shouting at the Minister."

The twins leaped to their feet.

"Rescue Harry? That we can do."

"One diversion, coming up."

"Tell Harry I'll meet him by Hagrid's hut," she said.

She took the stairs to the boys' dorm two at a time and snatched up Harry's broom. Her hands shook as she walked to the still-open window.

"What are you doing?" Ron yelled as he entered the room behind her.

"You can't seriously be thinking of flying out that window?" Ginny added. "On Harry's broom?"

"Oh, yes I am," Hermione said quietly.

"But, you can't fly," Ron protested.

"I'm a witch! Of course I can fly."

"But, you suck at it," Ginny said.

"I don't care. Wormtail has Draco in the forest and he's torturing him with the _Cruciatus Curse_. I have to help him."

"It's _Draco_ now?" Ron snapped. "Good riddance, I say!"

Hermione turned on him savagely. "How can you even think that, Ron? Who _are_ you? If that's your attitude, then you're no better than… than a Death Eater!"

Ron's jaw worked furiously, but it was Ginny who looked repentant.

"Come on," she said and took Harry's broom from Hermione. "I'll fly you down."

Hermione mounted behind Ginny and they soared out the window and flew swiftly to Hagrid's hut. Ron flew down and landed next to them. He threw her an apologetic look, but she wasn't ready to forgive him quite yet. It seemed forever before Harry ran out of the front doors, followed by Tonks and Lupin. Hermione groaned, fearing another delay.

Harry accepted his broom from Ginny and grinned as she examined his blonde locks. He tugged at his hair in a familiar gesture.

"Nice, huh?"

Ginny shook her head, but smiled ruefully.

"Not really, no."

"We'd better hurry," Lupin interrupted. Hermione blinked at him. "Tonks told me Draco was captured. Harry said you know where he is."

"Firenze told us. He can't return to the forest or the other centaurs will kill him, but he recognized the spot and told us how to get there," Hermione said.

"Hopefully, we don't run into any centaurs, either," Tonks commented.

"Or spiders," Ron added with a shudder.

Lupin and Tonks mounted their own brooms. Hermione immediately took up position behind Harry. At the moment, she didn't trust Ron to take her anywhere near Draco. She gripped Harry's waist tightly. Ginny shook her head, but moved quickly to mount behind Ron.

"Let's go," Ginny said. The six of them took off across the top of the forest.

"Hold on, Draco," Hermione pleaded silently.

Draco was tired. He'd used the final reserves of his strength in his last escape attempt and now he just wanted to let go and sink into oblivion. Seven days was a long time; maybe he would find a way to escape in the interim. Before Greyback turned him into a werewolf. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Draco's eyes were closed and he lay perfectly limp, not willing to look into Greyback's leering visage any longer. He wished the werewolf would get off him—he was finding it exceedingly difficult to breathe.

Fenrir's left hand released Draco's right arm. Malfoy's left hand was cold and numb from Greyback's wand and grip cutting off his circulation. He felt the werewolf grip the neck of his grey shirt and tear viciously downward, popping buttons and baring Draco's chest.

This can't be good, Draco thought grimly. Bloody hell, what would The Boy Who Lived do in this situation? Probably conjure up some miraculous solution with his infinite Gryffindor luck. He needed to borrow some of that luck.

A moment later, Draco sucked in a tortured breath as Fenrir's sharp fangs tore into his flesh near the hollow of his right shoulder. The pain didn't stop there—Greyback dragged his teeth in a jagged path diagonally across Draco's chest. He stopped at Draco's diaphragm and began to lick his way back up the bloody gash, lapping at the blood.

Draco's right hand unobtrusively moved until his fingertips touched the smooth wood of Fenrir's wand. The werewolf was too intent on his gruesome task to notice, until Draco spoke.

"_Serpensortia_," Malfoy said quietly. Fenrir's head snapped up in surprise. His mouth was horrifyingly red. Before he could as much as blink, a huge snake launched itself at Fenrir's face. The fangs sank into the flesh of one eyebrow and the werewolf flung himself backward with a shriek.

The instant Greyback's weight left him, Draco rolled over groggily and _Accioed_ his wand. The werewolf tore the snake from his face in a sanguine shower and glared yellow daggers at Draco, just as the wand snapped into Malfoy's outstretched hand.

"_Expelliarmus_!" they both shrieked at the same moment, but Draco's was born of desperation and was slightly faster; Fenrir's wand flew out of his hand. Draco's next spell smashed the werewolf backward into a tree and his third immobilized Greyback. The werewolf hit the ground stiffly and didn't move.

Draco sighed deeply and laid his cheek in the dirt, too exhausted even to feel relief. Blood trickled down his chest. He knew he had to get up and deal more permanently with Greyback. Tie him up, or kill him, or something. He just needed to rest for a moment. He shut his eyes.

He heard a shout and debated opening his eyes, assuming it could only be the next wave or horror coming to assault him—Greyback's chums or Wormtail's reinforcements.

He was suddenly dragged upward by the shoulders and enveloped in a warm embrace that caused the wound on his chest to flare with renewed pain.

"Oh, Draco, thank God you're alive," Hermione Granger's voice breathed in his ear. He smiled in bemusement. How the hell had she found him? He opened his eyes, after all, and saw Harry Potter standing over him. Beyond Potter stood two Weasleys, Lupin, and the pink-haired Order girl. Lupin was hovering over Greyback and Pinkie held her wand ready to blast the werewolf. Ginny Weasley stood behind Harry, expressionless, and Ron's gaze was ice. The Weasels probably wished Fenrir had eaten him.

Draco allowed himself to melt into Hermione's embrace for a moment, drinking in the scent and feel of her just to spite Ron. She drew back and gripped his shoulder with one hand while the other brushed the dirt and debris from his face. Her shirt was red with his blood.

"What took you so long, Potter?" Draco said wryly. Harry shrugged.

"We had to flip a coin. Heads, save Malfoy; tails, let Malfoy rot."

"Lucky me it was heads, eh?" Draco said. He jerked a thumb. "Wormtail is caged over there."

His eyes met Hermione's for the first time and he felt a strange rush of emotion at the look in her brown eyes, which were bright with unshed tears.

"You look terrible," she said quietly.

Draco frowned. "I thought you'd like my black hair. It's very… Harry Potter, don't you think?"

"I mean, you're covered in blood and you look half-dead. We've got to get you to a hospital."

"We can't," Harry said. "He doesn't dare _Apparate_ in his condition. The last one nearly killed him. We'll have to take him to Hogwarts."

Draco sneered. "I'm fine, Potter." He tried to get to his feet, but found he didn't quite have the energy as everything began to go black. Hermione pressed him back quickly.

"Stay still!" she ordered.

Lupin walked over. "You captured two Death Eaters? Again? They seem to flock to you every time you step out of Hogwarts. Are they attracted to you?"

Draco laughed shortly and jerked his chin at Greyback. "Well, that one certainly was."

"Let's get out of here before he attracts any more," the pink-haired girl said. She held the cage containing Wormtail.

"I'll take Malfoy," Potter said and knelt next to Draco, who tried to wave him back.

"Forget it, Potter. I can ride my own broom."

"Until you pass out and fall to your death. Skip the bravado or I'll simply knock you out."

Harry lifted Draco, who wouldn't have admitted under torture that he was glad the matter had been taken out of his hands. He wasn't entirely certain he would have been able to fly alone. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder and sighed dramatically.

"You've wanted to hold me all day, haven't you, Potter?"

"You know where you can stuff your wisecracks, Malfoy," Harry growled.

Potter stepped over his broom and in moments they hovered in the air. Harry hadn't shifted his grip on Draco. Potter was the only person Draco knew who could have managed it—flying without hands.

Soon they were zipping over the trees. At some point during the journey, Draco succumbed to darkness, safe in the knowledge that the Gryffindor Golden Boy would never drop him.

Hermione hurriedly mounted behind Ron as Harry and Draco took off. Ginny rose into the air on Draco's broom. Tonks carried Wormtail's cage and Lupin levitated the bound and unconscious Greyback beneath his broom.

Hermione chewed her lip with worry. She hoped they had reached Draco in time. He had been white as a ghost and so limp in her grasp she feared they were too late. His shirt was saturated in blood. She remembered Bill Weasley's encounter with Greyback—the wounds had been the devil to close. Madam Pomfrey was not at Hogwarts. She lived in London in the summer and volunteered at St. Mungos. They would have to fetch her.

With that thought, she released Ron with one hand and cast a Patronus that streaked away toward Hogwarts. As the spell shot from her wand, Ron yelped in surprise and Hermione screamed and grabbed him reflexively as the broom dropped several meters.

"Damn, Hermione!" Ron yelled over the rushing wind. "Warn a guy before you do that!" The broom climbed slowly to its former altitude.

"Sorry! I sent a message to McGonagall."

When they reached Hogwarts, Harry was already inside. He was followed by Ginny, who carried their brooms. The instant Ron touched down, Hermione leaped off and bolted, ignoring Ron's shout of protest.

She passed Ginny and caught up to Harry on the stairs.

"He passed out," Harry explained. Hermione raced ahead to the hospital ward to prepare a bed. Harry set Draco down gently and Hermione pulled off Malfoy's bloodied shirt.

Beneath the black hair, Draco's face was nearly as white as the pillow under his head. Harry turned worried green eyes to her.

"He lost a lot of blood earlier today. I don't know how much more he can spare."

Hermione _Accioed_ thick compresses from a nearby cabinet and pressed them against Draco's chest. She prayed for McGonagall to hurry with Madam Pomfrey. Ron and Ginny sat on a nearby bed and watched silently as the cloths became rapidly saturated with Draco's blood.

"It won't coagulate," Hermione whispered. "How did they heal Bill? Why didn't I pay closer attention?"

"It's really advanced healing magic, Hermione. I don't think you would be able to perform it, regardless."

A red-gold shape suddenly burst through the door and circled the room once before perching on the bottom railing of Draco's bed.

"Fawkes!" Harry breathed.

The phoenix hopped forward onto the bed until it stood over Draco. Harry took the compresses from Hermione's hands, exposing Malfoy's raw wound. Fawkes tipped his head and phoenix tears began to drip into the gashes. Astoundingly, the blood stopped flowing and the wounds slowly knitted themselves.

Hermione clasped her hands together in relief. When Fawkes was finished, she scooped up the phoenix in a joyful embrace and planted a kiss on its feathered head.

"You beautiful, beautiful bird!" she cried. Fawkes fluttered in protest and flapped away the instant she released him. It disappeared through the doorway and Hermione looked wonderingly at Harry.

"That's the second time Fawkes has helped us. Do you think Dumbledore told him to watch out for us? Or for Malfoy?"

Harry sighed. "At this point, I don't know what Dumbledore might have done. He apparently kept _loads_ of secrets from us." She couldn't mistake the bitterness in Harry's voice. He continued, "At least our trip was successful, up until the point where Malfoy was taken. We found the locket. It looks like Regulus managed to destroy it before he was killed."

"What locket?" Ginny snapped. "Regulus who?"

Harry flushed. It seemed he had forgotten she was present. Hermione carefully bathed Draco's wounds, amazed that the gashes were now tiny red lines that would likely fade to match the _Sectumsempra_ scars that crossed his chest in the other direction. Hermione's eyes met Harry's and she grinned.

"You might want to have a talk with her," she commented. She noticed a nasty bite mark on Draco's throat, but luckily the skin wasn't broken. There was a dreadful bruise on his left wrist and smaller bruises on his right. It looked as though Greyback had manhandled Draco brutally. He was lucky to be alive.

She could feel Ron's heated gaze on her the entire time she tended Draco and she knew another confrontation was brewing there. Harry got up and motioned to Ginny. They walked to a corner of the room just as McGonagall hurried in with Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione stepped back and allowed them to examine Draco. She quickly explained what Fawkes had done. Madam Pomfrey examined Draco and then hurried to her office. She returned with a number of potions.

"He has lost a lot of blood. This will help him rebuild it, but he will need a lot of rest."

She levered him up with McGonagall's help and forced two potions down Draco's throat. Then she turned and waved at them in a shooing motion.

"Out! I will take care of him from here. There will be no change in his condition for awhile. Thanks to the phoenix, it looks as though he is out of immediate danger. You can visit him later."

Hermione sighed and headed for the door, followed by Ron. Harry and Ginny trailed after them. At the door, Hermione gasped and then turned and ran back to Draco. Madam Pomfrey was removing his boots. She looked at Hermione warningly.

"This belongs to him," she said and pulled the braided cord over her head. She slipped it quickly over Draco's head until the Galleon rested on his chest. She brushed a hand through his down-soft black hair for a moment and smiled softly.

She sighed and joined Ron at the door, leaving Draco in Madam Pomfrey's capable hands.


	34. Chapter 34 Morning Visit

**Chapter Thirty Four – Morning Visit**

Ron was waiting for her, as expected. She sighed, wanting nothing more than to go and collapse on her bed and stare aimlessly at the ceiling. The stress of the past few days was taking its toll.

"We need to talk," Ron said, confirming her suspicions.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked in resignation.

"Astronomy Tower?"

The haunt of stargazing lovers and hopeful romantics? She thought not.

"If you don't mind, I've climbed enough stairs today to put me halfway up the Eiger. I'd prefer a lower elevation."

He sighed, but nodded.

"The Charms classroom? It's empty. And maybe I can show you that bubble charm that Fred and George invented."

She acquiesced and they went downstairs in uncomfortable silence. Once in the classroom, she quickly went to the windows and stared out at the growing darkness. She wondered how long it would be before Draco awakened. As if her thoughts had broached the subject, Ron blurted, "What's between you and Malfoy?"

"What do you mean?" she asked evasively. She didn't want to talk about Draco at all, especially when she hadn't even sorted out her own mind when it came to the perplexing Slytherin.

"You know what I mean. You were bloody well frantic to rush off and save him. I've hardly seen you at all since you brought him here. Damn it, you were ready to leap off Gryffindor Tower on Harry's broom to go after him! What the hell is going on?"

"There is nothing 'going on,' as you put it. It's just that I've seen a different side of Malfoy in the past few days and he's… I don't know… redeemed himself. I'm certainly not going to let him be tortured if I can stop it."

Her excuse sounded a trifle lame even to her own ears. She _had_ been ready to ride Harry's broom off the Tower. She would have gone through the forest alone, if need be. The thought of Greyback marring Draco's beautiful flesh—she shuddered. If she had seen _that_ in the Scrying pool, she probably would have run straight into the forest without waiting for Harry or bothering with a broom. The knowledge made her sigh and lean her forehead against the glass.

Damn it. Maybe there wasn't anything 'going on' between her and Malfoy. But it was possible that she _wanted_ there to be. She longed to be beside him right now, sitting with him and brushing his hair back from his forehead—whether silver or black. She wanted to be there when his devastating grey eyes opened, to see if they would light up with that same sensual glow she remembered…

"Can you even hear me?" Ron demanded and she realized he'd asked her a question. Probably more than once. She pushed herself away from the window and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

He glared daggers at her. "Were you just thinking about Malfoy?" he snapped. She couldn't stop herself from flushing guiltily. Ron shook his head in disgust and threw up his hands. "Why do I even try?"

He spun and stormed out. For a moment, she started after him, but what could she say? She sighed and walked over to Professor Flitwick's desk. She spied a quill and absently cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on it. The quill rose into the air and she sighed, remembering Ron's first attempt at the spell. She grinned. He had been painfully inept. And pretty cute with his hangdog expression.

Then, he and Harry had saved her from the troll—their first adventure. There had been so many after that. Quirrell and Tom Riddle and Sirius. Riding Thestrals. Battling Death Eaters. They had done so much together it usually seemed like the three of them against the world. She wondered why Ron had never made a move on her despite numerous chances. She had thought it was simple shyness, but now she wondered. She thought maybe Ron had taken for granted that he had plenty of time—that she would always be nearby, waiting until he was ready. Maybe she would have been. Until Draco.

She cancelled the spell and the feather fluttered back to the desk. She sighed. Maybe she owed Ron a chance. After all, they had been through several kinds of hell in the past six years, and she had despised Malfoy for every minute of those years until… what? Six days ago? Would she really trade six years for six days?

She went out and was nearly bowled over by Tonks. When they righted themselves, Tonks said, "Sorry."

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Hermione asked.

"Fetching McGonagall. We're not quite sure what to do with Greyback and Moody is threatening to rip him limb from limb. Frankly, I'm tempted to look the other way and let him go to it, but Remus…"

Hermione nodded.

"And Wormtail?"

"Still caged. We dare not let him out. Besides, we're not quite sure how to open Malfoy's lock. It seems to be cleverly spelled. Wormtail is lucky Greyback didn't kill Draco or he might have been boxed forever."

Hermione shrugged. "He played the rat for twelve years. It shouldn't hurt him to be caged for a decade or two."

Tonks raised a brow at the venom in her voice, but Hermione didn't care. Peter Pettigrew had much to answer for.

"Moody wants to torture him into giving up You-Know-Who's whereabouts."

"Moody needs to stop acting on pure emotion and think for a moment. Voldemort would never allow that. I'm sure he has Wormtail's mind thoroughly booby-trapped in case of that eventuality. Where are they being kept?"

"In the Hufflepuff dungeon. The dungeons really were prisons before Hogwarts became a school. It was a simple matter to return them to their original state. Fenrir is raving mad. We'll have to do something with him before the next full moon. I'm not sure his current cage will hold him once he changes."

Hermione chilled at the thought of Greyback in full werewolf mode running the halls of Hogwarts.

"There must be a way to contain him. I'll look into it. What happened to Scrimgeour?"

Tonks giggled.

"According to Jack, the Weasley twins arranged a veritable war on the second floor, complete with screaming women, clashing swords, explosions, and cries for help. Of course, by the time they got up there, the twins and their magic had gone—and so had Harry Potter. Scrimgeour was fit to burst and he vowed to conduct a full investigation into McGonagall's 'fitness to remain Headmistress at Hogwarts.'"

"Oh no!"

Tonks waved off her concern.

"Let him investigate. Who else is better qualified? He can bluster all he wants, but I don't think he'll find anyone that will even touch the position. Not with You-Know-Who out there, and after what happened to Dumbledore." Tonks started suddenly. "Oh my, I was fetching her, wasn't I? Better go! Catch you later, 'Mione!"

Tonks resumed her flight up the stairs and Hermione followed at a more leisurely pace. She entered the Gryffindor common room to find Ron missing and Harry and Ginny on the couch engaged in a passionate snog.

They broke off somewhat sheepishly when they noticed her, but she waved at them absently as she continued toward the stairs.

"Don't mind me. Just passing through. Carry on."

She escaped to her room and sat on the window seat. The moon had begun to rise with one edge blurred. In seven days, Lupin would be locked away under the calming influence of the Wolfsbane Potion and Greyback would be tearing at the bars of his cell with inhuman strength. Hermione should be in the library looking for a solution, but she was simply too tired at the moment.

Instead, she went to bed and awoke in the early hours of morning, before dawn had begun to paint the sky. She sat up and glanced across the room. Ginny's hair spilled over her pillow and her breathing was deep and even.

Hermione dressed quietly and padded down the stairs. She was surprised to find Harry sprawled casually on the sofa. She gasped for a moment—between the pose and the hair—still platinum blonde—she had actually thought him to be Draco.

"What are you doing up?" she asked when her heart had stilled.

"Waiting for you," he replied. "Shall we go?"

"Where?"

"To see Malfoy, of course. That's where you're headed, isn't it?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter." He stood up and shook out his Invisibility Cloak. "We should only need this if Madam Pomfrey is wandering about, which is unlikely at this hour."

The halls were dead silent, as were their trainer-clad footsteps as they descended to the hospital ward. They entered and sat on the bed next to Malfoy's. Hermione watched Draco's chest rise and fall evenly.

"Why didn't they use Fawkes on Bill Weasley?" she asked Harry.

"Maybe they did."

Hermione nodded, realizing they had never learned the details.

"What did you tell Ginny? About the Horcruxes?"

"Nothing. I found a way to silence her questions."

Hermione giggled. "I remember. That won't work forever, you know."

"I know, but hopefully we'll be done with them soon and I can tell her everything." Harry paused and then said, "You know, Malfoy asked if I had ever thought of you… as a girlfriend."

Hermione turned to look at him in surprise. "You two were talking about me? What brought on that subject?"

"We were talking about Ron, actually."

"And what did you say? To Malfoy's question."

"I said no. That you thought of me more as a brother."

Hermione looked at him curiously. She had never really stopped to analyze her feelings for Harry. Now that she tried to put words to it… he wasn't really a brother to her at all. He was… just Harry. If she admitted it to herself, she probably loved him more than any other person she knew. Not in a brotherly fashion, but deeper, somehow. Not in a romantic fashion, either. To her, Harry seemed almost untouchable. Pure and untainted. She didn't think any woman would ever be his match. Not even Ginny Weasley, although Hermione wished her well at the attempt.

"He told me I should kiss you and dispense with those brotherly feelings."

Hermione nearly choked.

"And what did you say?"

Harry looked at the floor.

"You'll probably hate me for it… but I laughed."

"Thank God," she said in relief and laughed, also. His eyes snapped to hers.

"You're not upset by that?"

"Of course not. I care for you more than any brother, I'm sure, but I have absolutely no desire to ever complicate our relationship to that degree. It's difficult enough having Ron to deal with."

"And we're back to Ron."

She sighed. "Yes, Ron. Do you think I've been unfair to him? Perhaps I owe him a chance…"

"I think you're looking at it the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think a relationship with Ron would be like? Have you ever envisioned it beyond the hand-holding, snogging stage?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I imagine it would be placid and predictable. He's so much like Mr. Weasley. He might protest and start a row when he's upset, but in the end I know he would give in to whatever I desired… Damn it, I would run him over like a stampeding rhino and then hate him for it."

"Like Mrs. Weasley does to Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked.

"Yes. At times she is more like his mother than his wife. I know they love each other, but sometimes I just want to shake Mr. Weasley and ask why he doesn't stand up to her." Hermione sighed. "I don't want to be a termagant."

"You need someone who knows their own mind."

Hermione looked at him wryly and nodded.

"Ron never seems to know what he wants until it begins to slip out of his grasp. Even then, I think he wants it only reflexively."

She looked over at Draco's sleeping form and immediately recognized the contrast. Malfoy always seemed to know what he wanted and went after it with single-minded determination. He would never bow to the will of another. He had done so once, with Voldemort, and rebelled against it so violently it drove him into collusion with his worst enemies.

She looked at Harry and her eyes widened in surprise as his hair suddenly darkened and resumed its natural shade. He grinned wryly and ran a hand through his black locks.

"I felt that. He said it would last twelve hours. I'm somewhat sorry to see it go."

She shook her head. "I'm not. Frankly, it was disconcerting." She turned back to Draco to see his hair shining in a beam of moonlight, restored to its silvery perfection. "Not that he was any less handsome with black hair."

"Of course not," Harry said with a snort. "The git would likely be gorgeous even if he were bald as an egg."

"Glad you recognize that, Potter," Draco said dryly. "Do you Gryffindors ever shut up? It's damned hard to get any sleep with you two prattling on."

Hermione was at his bedside in an instant. Her fingers gently touched his shoulders and she looked into his half-lidded eyes. The maddening smirk was on his lips and she smiled, realizing she had missed even that. She wondered how long he had been awake.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Like I've been mauled by a psychotic werewolf and awakened from a beautiful dream by annoying chatter. I recognize the Hogwarts hospital ward, having been sent here numerous times by… why that would be _you_, Potter… but what are you two doing here?"

"We came to check on you," Hermione explained.

"And the reason that couldn't wait until morning is…?"

"Madam Pomfrey."

"Ah. I'm sure it had nothing to do with your propensity for sneaking about at odd hours."

"We have to stay in practice," Harry explained. "Can't have our sneaking skills rusting, now can we?"

Malfoy's lips twitched. "I suppose not."

"Besides, I wanted to ask you a question."

"Hence, the real reason for your visit."

"Of course. You don't think I'm concerned about your health?"

"You have been hugging me rather a lot, lately. I thought your heart might have grown a bit fonder than warranted."

"Will you two knock it off?" Hermione snapped, cutting off Harry's retort.

"Fine. Malfoy, you said you found the house where Regulus was killed because you 'remembered the tale.' Was there more to that tale?" Harry asked.

Draco sat up gingerly and Hermione quickly lifted his pillows to provide better comfort. His silver eyes watched her in amusement.

"Thank you, Granger. You'll make someone an excellent concubine."

She glared at him and stiffly returned to sit next to Harry, who grinned at her sardonically. Had she actually been fantasizing about the maddening creature? At least Malfoy always managed to bring her back to crushing reality with a few choice words.

"What do you want to know?" Draco asked.

"Who killed Regulus Black?"

"According to my mother, three Death Eaters were sent to do him in. Magnus Bole, Adan Pucey… and Severus Snape. Only Snape returned. Regulus apparently killed Bole and Pucey."

Harry nodded. "Interesting that Snape was the only surviving witness."

"Isn't it, though? I suppose it's possible that he and Regulus had a small chat about Horcruxes prior to the coup de grace."

"Which would explain how Snape knew about them." Harry stood up. "I was just curious. We should let you rest."

"Potter?"

Harry turned back.

"The letter from my parents… Did you catch the part about Hogwarts not being safe?" Draco asked. Hermione's gaze flew to Harry. Draco had let him read the letter? Harry nodded. Draco's eyes closed. "You need to consider that. And ask why Wormtail and Fenrir Greyback were in the forest, so nearby. Put Granger on the task. I'm sure she hasn't been in the library in the past twenty minutes. She's likely going into withdrawal."

"Is it absolutely necessary to talk about me as though I'm not in the room?"

Draco grinned widely.

Harry sighed and started out. Hermione stood up and leaned over Draco. She waited until his eyes opened a crack.

"You're bloody infuriating when you want to be." She pressed her lips softly against his. "But, I'm very glad you're here."

She followed Harry out.


	35. Chapter 35 Pensieve, Parchment, Party

**Chapter Thirty Five – Pensieve, Parchment, Party**

Harry wasn't tired enough to go back to bed and Hermione seemed agitated after their visit with Draco.

"Never a dull moment with Malfoy, is there?" Harry commented mildly.

"He's bloody annoying, exasperating, and impossible to understand," Hermione snapped. Harry nodded thoughtfully. She would never have to worry about a placid, predictable relationship with that one.

"Want to go up and use the Pensieve before McGonagall wakes up?" he asked. Hermione nodded and in short order they found themselves standing before the basin. Harry shook the vial experimentally and dumped it in.

Strangely, this memory took place outside, near the lake. Hermione popped into existence next to Harry. Dumbledore was absently conjuring handfuls of grain and scattering it on the lake for the ducks that greedily snapped up the treat. Snape, of course, stood beside him.

"Why didn't you bring the damned thing to me?" Snape said bitterly. "It was stupid of you to destroy it alone. You're lucky I was able to stop the curse before it took your whole arm. Or worse."

"Will you stop nagging me like a mother hen?" Dumbledore said impatiently, although he raised his withered hand and looked at it with a grimace. Harry realized with a start that the memory was recent—it must have been right after Dumbledore had destroyed the ring Horcrux. "I'm aware of my failings."

"No, I really don't think you are," Snape said with his usual sneer. "Next time you have the urge to traipse off after a Horcrux, you should bloody well take someone with you. If you don't trust _me_, then take your little Gryffindor hero. Isn't it past time you started letting him in on some of your secrets? The brat's nearly of age."

"I'm certain Harry would agree with you."

"Well, that would be a first, wouldn't it?" Snape's black eyes flashed.

"Why do you hate the boy so much?" Dumbledore asked tiredly and then held up a hand to forestall Snape's reply. "Never mind. I don't wish to get into another argument about Potters and purebloods and perceived wrongs. I thought your opinion had softened somewhat, after Sirius."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Not in regards to Potter. Frankly, I don't see why you fancy those Gryffindors so much, except for their insane propensity to race headlong into danger without a moment's thought for the consequences." Snape looked pointedly at Dumbledore's withered hand. "Rather like you, I suppose. Gryffindor to the core, are you not?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Guilty as charged."

"Yes, well, as Headmaster, I would expect you to place a bit more value on some of the students in Houses other than your own."

"Several students joined 'my Gryffindors' last year, including some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, I believe."

"Yes, well, Cho Chang was smitten with The Boy Who Lived and Luna Lovegood is hardly a prime example of a Ravenclaw. What of Slytherins? Are none of them are worthy to stand beside The Chosen One? Potter's opinion seems to be quite tainted in that regard."

"And who would you choose to stand beside Harry Potter against Voldemort? Frankly, most of your Slytherin students seem more likely to carry banners proclaiming Voldemort's imminent reign than stand up to prevent it."

"I've done my best—" Snape began.

"You've done your best to encourage the same purebood nonsense they believe Voldemort stands for!" Dumbledore snapped. Snape's face flamed.

"It isn't nonsense! My most talented students are purebloods—"

"As are the most imbecilic! If purity of bloodline equals talent, then how to you explain Crabbe and Goyle? Without young Malfoy's assistance, they would have been tossed out of school years ago!"

Snape sniffed. "They have the talent. They just do not apply themselves."

Dumbledore glared at him. "You are babbling nonsense. Explain Hermione Granger."

It was Snape's turn to scowl. "An aberration. Freak coincidence."

Hermione balled up her fists and punched Snape in the stomach. Her fist went right through the vaporous memory without effect, but Harry grinned, applauding the effort.

"Aberration. I'll give you an aberration, you horrible, small-minded—" Hermione began, but Harry hushed her in order to hear the rest of the memory. She folded her arms and glared daggers at Snape.

Dumbledore dragged his good hand through his hair in a credible imitation of Harry Potter.

"Enough! This discussion has not been resolved in over fifteen years."

Snape grinned evilly. "And yet you continue to bring it up."

"I keep hoping that you will see the error of your ways," Dumbledore said sadly.

"As do I," Snape replied with a superior air.

The two were silent for a time and Dumbledore went back to feeding the ducks. Finally, Snape asked, "Do you intend to go after another Horcrux?"

"Possibly."

"Do you agree that you will not go alone, next time?" Snape asked blandly. Dumbledore looked at him suspiciously.

"Out with it, man," he said. Snape shook his head.

"Not without your promise."

"Fine. I promise to take at least one other person on my next Horcrux hunt," Dumbledore said with finality.

"Excellent. Then, I may know where you can find one."

Dumbledore stopped feeding the birds and turned his full attention to Snape.

"There is a cave by the sea…"

The memory ended, likely because Harry knew the rest. He staggered to the window seat and sat down. Each memory seemed to have its own frisson of horror. Hermione sat next to him and took his hand.

"Snape arranged the visit to the cave. He also made sure I went with Dumbledore. So that I wouldn't be here to stop Malfoy. I was the only one that suspected what he was up to…"

"Except us," Hermione whispered. "We were here. We should have been able to stop him."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think you could have. Snape was helping him." He got to his feet. "We need to talk to Malfoy and find out what Snape knew."

"Why?" Hermione asked woodenly and pulled him back down. "What difference will it make except to satisfy your curiosity? We know what Draco did. We know what Snape did. Learning how it all played out won't change anything."

"Everything involving Snape is suspect. Didn't you tell me it was Snape that told Malfoy Hufflepuff's cup was at the Riddle house? Why did he do that? Why did he kill Dumbledore? Why did he rejoin Voldemort if he is still opposing him?"

"Do you really think Malfoy will be able to answer those questions?"

Harry dragged a hand through his raven locks and sighed explosively.

"No. Damn it. Dumbledore couldn't even figure out Snape."

Hermione nodded. "I think our time will be better spent pondering the warning from the Malfoys. Why should Hogwarts be unsafe? And what were Greyback and Wormtail doing in the forest?"

"How can we possibly find the answer to those questions?"

"I'm not sure. But I think we should start with the Marauder's Map."

Harry dropped to his knees on the floor and spread the map out on his bed. Hermione sat on the bed next to the map and her hair brushed the parchment as she leaned over it.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," Harry said and tapped the map. Lines appeared and darkened. "What shall we look for?"

"Let's start with a general search of each floor, starting at the top and working our way down," Hermione said. Ron sat up, roused by their quiet voices.

"What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

"We're checking out the map to see who is hanging around Hogwarts," Harry said absently. Gryffindor Tower was first, and showed the three of them in the boy's dormitory. _Ginny Weasley_ was in the girl's. The map lines blurred and reformed, showing them Ravenclaw Tower. In one room, the names _Remus Lupin_ and _Nymphadora Tonks_ nearly overlapped. Hermione blushed.

"I didn't really need to see that," Harry commented and chuckled.

Another room contained _Jack Williamson_ and _Alastor Moody_. Neither overlapping, nor even close to each other, Harry was glad to see. _Hestia Jones_ was walking through the Ravenclaw common room and they watched as she exited to the corridor and headed downstairs.

A quick sweep of the castle showed nothing unexpected. _Draco Malfoy_ still slept in the hospital wing, tended by _Madam Pomfrey_. _Minerva McGonagall_ was in the Transfiguration Classroom. _Peter Pettigrew_ and _Fenrir Greyback_ were both safely contained in the Hufflepuff dungeons. Harry sighed.

"It looks safe enough to me," he said.

Ron had crawled over to sit on the other side of the map from Hermione. He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and blinked at the map.

"Go deeper," Hermione suggested. "Look at the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry scanned the map until he located Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and then moved the map view deeper, exposing a warren of chambers beneath the school. Most of them twisted, mazelike, and opened into each other. Harry looked up at Hermione.

"How is it that Fred and George never found the Chamber of Secrets with this map?"

Ron answered with a snort. "Did they care? They thought the whole Heir of Slytherin thing was a huge joke. Remember when they kept prodding you about being the Heir?"

"Until Ginny was taken."

"Yeah. And then they were too worried to think about the map. Plus, Mum wouldn't let them out of her sight long enough to use it."

"Too bad we didn't have it until Third Year. Why did Fred and George give it to me, anyway? I know they had all the passages memorized, but it was bloody useful to know where Filch was while sneaking out."

"Oh, they nicked it from you whenever they needed it," Ron commented. "It's not like you hid it. You usually had it jammed it your trunk there, eh?"

"They rooted through my personal items?" Harry said indignantly. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Do you recall who you're talking about? They would root through the personal items of the Minister of Magic for a previously chewed piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. Be glad they always returned the map."

Hermione giggled. "Goodness, Harry, you act like we're the only one allowed to sneak around. The twins probably did so ten times more than we did."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I don't see anything in the Chamber of Secrets. It's deserted." He sighed in frustration.

"That's a relief, anyway. I was afraid Voldemort or some Death Eaters had managed to sneak into the school and were hiding there. None of us would be the wiser."

"Maybe we should set up some sort of proximity alert. In case that ever happens."

Hermione shuddered. "I'd rather not go down there. From your description, it sounds dreadful."

"It was. Maybe you can put your brilliant mind to it and think of a solution."

"Maybe _you_ can take a nap. You're getting snappish."

"I'm not getting snappish!" Harry snapped.

Hermione looked askance at Ron, who grinned.

"Not at all, mate," Ron said insincerely. Harry scowled and tapped the map sharply.

"_Mischief managed_." He rolled the parchment and tucked it back into his trunk.

"Well, I'm for some breakfast. Do you two plan to join me?" Hermione asked.

Draco was out of bed by late afternoon. He had pretended to sleep each time visitors approached. Granger and Potter returned around noon. Next it was Lupin. And finally McGonagall, but none of them tried to awaken him. He waited until Madam Pomfrey padded off before he slid his feet to the floor and sat up.

Vertigo assailed him, but he fought it. He had slept enough and was sick of being bedridden. His blood supply would replenish itself whether he lay around like a limp sponge or not.

His clothes were missing. Pomfrey was clever that way. She hated to have her patients sneaking out before she was ready to release them. Draco surveyed the blankets on the bed and grimaced. Wool. He sighed. He had no intention of parading around Hogwarts draped in scratchy wool blankets. He'd almost rather stroll back to the Slytherin dungeon in the altogether. Transfiguring them would be a hassle.

The thought of walking around naked brought Hermione to mind. He had noticed the return of his coin immediately upon waking.

_Granger_, he sent.

_You summoned?_

_I need some clothes._

_Really? Whatever for?_

_I know you prefer me unclothed, but walking about naked might offend some of the more inhibited females in the building._

_You're grouping me with the _un_inhibited females?_

_You're the one that came down to my room and pounced on me._

_Pounced?_ He grinned, sensing volumes of indignation in the word.

_Delicately tried to seduce?_ he corrected.

_Your ego certainly hasn't suffered any injury. I'll be right there._

He settled himself back on the bed, propped his arms behind his head, and waited.

Hermione arrived a surprisingly short time later.

"Did you run?" he asked as she set the folded clothing on the end of the bed.

"No."

Draco tossed the sheet aside, making certain he kept his gaze on Hermione's face. She blanched at the sight of him clad in nothing but black silk boxers. He refrained from grinning, with effort, and reached for the clothing. He was careful not to move too quickly.

"You shouldn't be up at all," she said. "Where is Madam Pomfrey?"

"She went to fetch something from the greenhouse. I plan to be gone by the time she gets back." Draco pulled on the white long-sleeved t-shirt. He followed it with a pair of charcoal grey trousers that fit perfectly. He noticed a smile playing about Granger's lips and looked at her suspiciously.

"Where did you get these?" he asked. Her smile widened.

"I borrowed them from Harry. It seems you're exactly the same size."

"I doubt _that_," Draco said archly and Hermione coughed when she caught his meaning. He chuckled to himself and was glad to see his boots near the foot of his bed. He donned Potter's socks and tugged his boots on, fighting a wave of dizziness when he sat upright. Hermione hurried around the bed to help him.

He waved her back impatiently and she sighed in exasperation.

"Why are you even out of bed? You look like you're barely able to stand."

"Because I'm a stubborn bastard, remember?" he asked and stood up defiantly. "Did Potter look at that locket?"

"We both did. Regulus destroyed it properly, thank goodness."

Draco nodded and bypassed her to head for the door.

"Malfoy—" she started.

He spun around with a flare of annoyance and walked back to her. He clenched his fists at his sides in order to keep from touching her. Merely standing this close to her probably constituted a violation of his promise to Weasley.

"Back in the forest," he said, "You called me Draco. Do you remember?"

Her eyes were huge pools of liquid chocolate.

"I remember," she breathed. "_Draco_…"

The sound slid over him like a caress. He closed his eyes and cursed Weasley to the ninth level of hell. As if conjured by his thoughts, the door opened and Ron stalked into the room. Draco could tell it was him by the agitated sound of his footsteps. Draco opened his eyes to see Hermione's hand, which had been reaching out to touch him, fall back to her side.

"I thought I'd find you here," Weasley said dryly. Draco turned to look at him and Ron's gaze met his with a flash of warning. Malfoy shrugged. Ron continued, "Neville is here. And Luna, and Susan Bones."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Thought they'd be safer here, I suppose. Neville's gran is still at St. Mungo's, but Neville can't stay there and they won't let him go home. Too dangerous. Luna's dad doesn't want her left alone. And Susan… well…"

None of them spoke. They all knew Amelia Bones had been horribly murdered, leaving Susan one of the unlucky few whose entire family had been eradicated by Voldemort.

Hermione hurried out and Draco followed at a more leisurely pace. As he passed Ron, Weasley's hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve.

"I thought you agreed to stay away from her," Ron muttered.

"I have," Draco said mildly, meeting Ron's stormy gaze with a hint of amusement. "You might to discuss the matter with her. She doesn't seem to be aware of your rules."

Weasley flushed and Draco allowed no satisfaction to touch his features, but he knew damned well that Ron wouldn't dare forbid Hermione to stay away from Draco. She would verbally slice off his head and hand it to him on a platter.

A quick jerk removed his sleeve from Weasley's grasp and Draco walked stiffly out the door. His right leg still hurt like the devil. It would most likely be sore and aching for a few days, until the memory of the break and impalement faded.

Everyone seemed to be in the Great Hall. Nearly all of the Order was present and the atmosphere seemed almost festive.

Hermione was talking animatedly to Neville, who started in surprise when Draco entered. Luna, standing next to Longbottom, caught sight of Draco and fairly danced across the room to fling her arms around Draco's neck.

She planted a lipsticky kiss on his cheek and fairly choked him.

"I never thanked you properly for saving me," she said. Draco tried to disengage her arms from his neck without success.

"Consider me properly thanked," he said, somewhat worried what a proper thanking might be to Luna.

"No, no. I have to do something for you."

Terrifying idea. "Fine. Give it some thought and get back to me. Take your time."

Luna sighed and released him. She stepped back and looked at him critically. Her radish earrings dangled when she cocked her head to the side.

"You're terribly pale. Have you been attacked by vampires? I can make you a garlic necklace to ward them off."

"You do that," Malfoy said absently. His attention had been snared by the approach of Neville Longbottom. The Gryffindor boy seemed different. He was two hand spans taller than Draco and his visage was serious and subdued. The anxiousness that used to occupy his features was gone.

Neville stepped forward and stretched out his hand to Draco.

"They told me what you did. You saved my life," Neville said seriously.

"Mine, too!" Luna cried and clapped her hands.

Malfoy reluctantly allowed Neville to shake his hand, but Neville stepped close and wrapped his left arm around Draco's shoulders. He hugged Draco tightly for a moment and Malfoy grimaced uncomfortably. Damned overemotional Gryffindors.

"Thank you," Neville said sincerely.

"You aren't going to kiss me, are you?" Draco asked wryly and Neville released him and stepped back as if burned.

"No, of course not!"

"Thank God. It's bad enough when Potter does it."

"Wha—?" Neville gaped at him.

"_Joking_," Draco said and rolled his eyes. Longbottom was such a thickwit. Malfoy brushed past him to stand next to Potter, who was talking with a girl Draco barely recognized.

Susan Bones had been a slightly pudgy, round-faced girl with a long plait of light brown hair, freckles, dancing brown eyes, and a ready smile. The freckles were all that remained of that girl. Susan was now thin as a rail. Her hair had been hacked off and stuck out from her head in a halo of brown spikes. Her eyes were hard and frigid as she looked at Malfoy with sheer contempt. Her lips were a thin line.

"I thought you were a Death Eater," she snapped.

"Not really," Draco said tonelessly.

"Aren't you directly responsible for Dumbledore's death?" she continued harshly.

Draco looked at Harry Potter with a pained expression and forced a sarcastic smile.

"I suppose I am. Great party. I think I'll go hang myself, now."

Draco turned and left the Great Hall. He wondered what had prompted him to join the bloody gathering. There were too many people and most of them had strong opinions about Draco Malfoy. He was either a hero or pariah. Frankly, he didn't give a damn what any of them thought.

"Malfoy, wait!"

Draco groaned and kept walking. She had to make it difficult for him, didn't she?

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked when she caught up to him. He stopped, but didn't look at her.

"Go back to your friends, Granger," he said tiredly.

"Not without you."

"Forget it. I don't belong in there."

"Of course you do!"

His head snapped up and he glared at her.

"Damn it, when will you stop trying to make me into something I'm not?" he cried angrily. "Everything I've done has been for my own selfish reasons! You're intelligent enough to figure that out, once you stop letting your overactive imagination control your thinking!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed at his outburst.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"You know what I mean. You've turned me into some sort of fantasy hero. I'm not a pale shadow of Harry Potter and I never will be! Go back to your Gryffindors, Granger, and leave me alone."

He stalked off. As an afterthought, he yanked at the cord holding the Galleon and flung it to the ground. He didn't look back as he fled to the Slytherin dungeon.


	36. Chapter 36 Founders

**Chapter Thirty Six – Founders**

Hermione picked up the coin from the floor and looked after Draco in dismay. She wondered what had brought on that outburst. Draco had been acting so strangely, lately. She sighed and traced the coin with her fingers as she pondered his words. Was she really trying to turn Draco into 'a pale shadow of Harry Potter?' She scowled. Why did he have to be so damned complicated? He was completely infuriating and prickly as a hedgehog today. Even in the hospital wing he'd been avoiding her, until she'd apparently annoyed him by calling him Malfoy.

_I don't belong in there._

His words touched a nerve. Would Draco always feel like an outcast? She heard footsteps approach and then Harry stood beside her.

"Is Malfoy okay?" he asked.

She looked at him seriously and shook her head. "I don't think so. He stormed off to the Slytherin common room."

"Are you going to go talk to him?"

"He doesn't seem to want me around. I wish he would tell me what is really bothering him."

"Susan Bones just accused him of being a Death Eater and murdering Dumbledore," Harry commented. She considered that for a moment and then rejected it as the cause of Draco's distress.

"He hears that all the time. Moody still wants to turn him into a Christmas pudding. He's never been bothered by insults, before. Except yours."

"No, I think he actually _likes_ my insults. They give him a good excuse to retaliate."

Hermione sighed. "I think the strain is getting to him. He's out of his element. We all have each other and he feels that he has no one. He's used to being perceived as an insufferable bully and now that we see him as a fellow human being, he's not sure how to react."

"So he lashes out in typical Malfoy fashion."

"Yes. I think he desperately wants to let down his guard, but he's terrified of being hurt."

Harry looked at her in amazement. "How do girls even think of things like that? I thought he was just pissed because he can't snarl vile insults and make himself feel superior."

"That is so typically male," Hermione said and rolled her eyes. "Besides, he doesn't really have to restrain himself if he wants to insult someone. There is always Ron."

"Yeah, there is always Ron," Harry repeated, but something in his tone made her look at him sharply.

"What?"

Harry shrugged and said, "Nothing," but his green eyes slid away from hers. She put her hands on her hips.

"Harry James Potter, if you know something about all of this, you'd better spill it right now."

He looked decidedly guilty.

"Look, I don't know anything. It's only a suspicion based on something Malfoy said at the Hog's Head."

"Which was?"

"Malfoy mentioned that he owed Ron a favor. Because Ron saved him from the Carrows at Snape's house."

"Draco owes _Ron_ a favor?"

Harry nodded, but Hermione couldn't quite make the connection to Harry's suspicion.

"And what did Ron ask for?"

Harry flushed. "I don't know. Malfoy didn't say. As I told you, it's only an idea."

Hermione wasn't listening, knowing it would take a devilish amount of prying to get Harry to cough up a straight answer. What could Malfoy possibly have that Ron would want? Well, money, obviously, but she couldn't picture Ron asking for _that_ even under torture. He was far too proud. What else? Draco's broom?

She scowled. No, it had to be something that would cause Draco to lash out like a cornered fox. What if it wasn't something Draco _had_, but something he could _do_? What could Ron ask Draco to do? _Avada Kedavra_ himself, of course, but in lieu of that… She glanced at Harry, who waited expectantly. Something finally clicked.

"He didn't," she said in realization. Harry watched her perceptively, but said nothing. She narrowed her gaze at him and continued evenly, "Tell me Ron didn't warn Malfoy away from me."

Harry shrugged and then nodded tentatively. "It wouldn't surprise me."

Hermione felt such a rush of rage she was surprised her hair didn't crackle from the force of it.

"I. Will. Kill. Him," she decided and spun on a heel.

Harry grabbed her arm and halted her. "Don't do anything rash!"

"_Rash?_ Who the hell does Ron think he is? I am not his property!"

"Ron is afraid of losing you," Harry said lamely.

"He never had me to lose, Harry!"

"I know that, but I don't think Ron does." He paused and then forged ahead. "How do you feel about Malfoy, anyway?"

Hermione shied away from the question. She wasn't ready to examine her feelings about Draco, and especially not before Harry Potter. "I don't know. Everything is so confusing right now. Besides, I think the most important thing is to ask how Malfoy feels about us."

"Us?" Harry looked baffled.

"Yes! He chose to come to us. Look at everything he's done! We never would have believed he would help us, but we would be devastated right now if not for Malfoy. My parents would probably be dead; Neville and Luna would be captured and possibly dead. We wouldn't have found and destroyed the cup. We wouldn't have four Death Eaters in the dungeon! Frankly, Malfoy's done more for us in the past _week_ than we've managed with the entire Order in the past bloody year."

Harry's expression was grim.

"Well, Malfoy doesn't seem to realize that."

"Maybe someone should explain it to him," she suggested lightly. Harry looked at her hopefully.

"No, not me. Apparently he's made some sort of noble vow that prevents him from accepting my company at the moment. You go talk to him. I'm going to have a little chat with our friend Ron."

"You won't hurt him?"

"Hardly at all," she said with steel in her voice.

Harry sighed deeply, but obediently headed for the Slytherin dungeon. Hermione called after him.

"Unless he's changed the password, it's _apple_."

"Apple?"

"You know—garden, tree, serpent… apple. He'll explain it to you."

Harry shook his head in bemusement and disappeared. Hermione set her jaw and went to find Ronald Weasley.

Draco lay on the couch in the Slytherin common room, feeling perfectly miserable. He shouldn't have lashed out at Hermione. His current black mood was definitely not her fault. If anyone had proven to be firmly on his side, it was Granger. He had little doubt that she had been the one to instigate his rescue in the forest. He still didn't know how she'd managed to find him.

He sighed, already regretting the loss of the Galleon. What had possessed him to throw it down like a spoiled child? He should probably go find her and apologize. Except that he hated apologizing. And Ron Bastard Weasley would take him to task for it. Bloody hell, he should have just let the Carrows torture him. It would have been less painful in the long run.

Draco heard footsteps approaching and realized he should have changed the password. He really hadn't expected Hermione to follow him. To his surprise, it was Harry Potter who appeared at the end of the sofa.

"Hey, Malfoy," Potter said casually, as though wandering into the Slytherin common room was an everyday occurrence for The Chosen One.

"That will teach me to give a _Gryffindor_ the password," Draco said dryly. "Did she put out a newsletter?"

"Relax. She only told me because she thought you didn't want her around."

"Perceptive, as always," Draco said. He watched Harry curiously, wondering why he was here. Had Granger sent him down for a pep talk? If so, Potter's heart didn't seem to be in it, which wasn't surprising. Harry wandered around aimlessly, peering at Slytherin bric-a-brac.

"It's hideously dark in here," Potter commented. "How do you stand it?"

"Slytherins appreciate the dark."

"So do I, but in moderation."

Draco gestured to the walls. "Normally, those are spelled to resemble windows that reflect the actual conditions outside. It's usually bright as Gryffindor Tower in here. Since I'm the only one in residence, they seem to have dispensed with such trivialities."

Harry made a noncommittal sound and spelled a dozen or so candles and sconces into light.

"Feeling any effects of Greyback's attack?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

"No. Nothing."

"Bill Weasley said he didn't feel any different, except that he had a craving for very rare meat."

"I eat my steaks that way already, so I probably won't notice a thing. What are the odds of you leaving me in peace?"

"Not in your favor."

"Shouldn't you be up there with your friends?"

"They can wait. This can't."

Draco wasn't sure he wanted to know what 'this' constituted. He folded his arms beneath his head in an affectation of boredom. Harry sat down on a nearby chair, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

_One_, Draco counted automatically.

Harry said, "Remember our first year, before we were sorted? You wanted to be my friend simply because I was famous."

Draco scowled, not appreciating the reminder of that particular memory. "That was before I discovered what a git you are."

"That was before you annoyed me by insulting Ron Weasley. You know, I've often thought about what would have happened if I'd never met Ron and had no preconceptions about the different Houses. Did you know the Sorting Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin?"

Draco laughed shortly and shook his head in amazement.

"_You?_ The quintessential Gryffindor? That would have been hilarious."

"Seriously, it nearly happened. If it had, who do you think I would have been most likely to befriend?"

"Montague?" Draco asked archly. Harry ignored that.

"And think about this. When it comes to Voldemort, some unavoidable destiny seems to have been laid upon me. I don't think I would have escaped it simply by being sorted into a different House. I believe I would have had to stop Quirrell, and Tom Riddle, and do everything else I've been forced into."

Despite himself, Draco was fascinated by Harry's conjecture.

"You really think you would have had the same adventures as a Slytherin?"

Harry nodded. "I'm positive. I suspect Dumbledore set many of them up as a test of my abilities. I would have needed help, of course, especially to navigate the traps laid for the Stone. You're as clever as Hermione. You would have figured out the Devil's Snare trap and Snape's potion mystery—and you're the only one I've seen that can beat Ron at wizard's chess…"

Draco sat up and swung his feet to the floor, not liking the path Harry's thoughts followed. "You think _I_ would have helped you defeat Voldemort?"

"Who else? You know I never would have fallen for that pureblood idiocy, even if I were sorted into Slytherin. I don't think _you_ believe it any longer, either. If you ever really did."

Draco was silent. He shook his head and looked at Harry. "So, you think we would have been bosom buddies?" he said after a moment, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "_You and I?_"

"I think it was inevitable." Harry said quietly. His green eyes were wide and sincere. Draco buried his face in his hands. Bloody hell! Why did Potter and his friends insist on wringing every possible unwanted emotion out of a person? Draco quelled the strange leap of sentiment Harry's words had conjured. He looked up and sneered at Potter, but the gesture didn't have its usual potency.

"I'm not your friend, Potter."

Harry smiled in what seemed to be genuine amusement.

"Like hell you're not. You signed up for that position the minute you warned Hermione that her parents were in danger. And the best part is that you did it to yourself. As Hermione pointed out, you've done more for the cause lately than anyone. As well as paid the price."

Draco stood up, agitated by Potter's insinuation. He glared at Harry and tried to drudge up his old feelings of hatred for his nemesis. Potter's sardonic grin helped, but it wasn't quite enough. Draco kept recalling Harry's face at St. Mungo's, grim with concern as he gently handed Malfoy over to the hospital staff. Damn it, Draco didn't want to be one of Potter's loyal followers!

"You're insane, you know that?" he said harshly.

Harry shrugged. "Yes, well, it's entirely Hermione's fault. She seems to like you. Of course, there's no accounting for taste."

"Witness you and the redheaded stick girl." Draco leaped at the change of subject.

"Leave Ginny out of this. We're talking about you and Hermione."

"There is no me and Hermione."

"Do you want there to be?"

"Do you really expect me to answer that?"

"No. Not really." Harry laughed and stood up. "Come on. There's no sense in you brooding alone down here, now that we're starting to miss your aggravating presence when you're not around."

"I wasn't brooding." Draco tried to find a way to refuse Harry.

"Wallowing in self-pity?"

"I hope you find yourself amusing."

Harry chuckled and walked to the fireplace to look at the enormous painting of Salazar Slytherin, who glared down at Potter in barely suppressed rage.

"Think he's rolling in his grave?" Harry asked. Draco hadn't really looked at the painting in a long time. Slytherin wore a grayish undertunic with a black woven cloth belt. A huge black cloak, trimmed in brilliant green, swept back over one shoulder where it was pinned with a simple serpent brooch of hammered silver. In contrast to the plain brooch, the Slytherin locket glittered majestically on his chest. He gripped a wooden staff in one hand and a wand with the other. The signet ring flashed briefly as Salazar moved. As if annoyed by their scrutiny, he disappeared.

Harry shrugged and turned back to Draco. It was common knowledge that the Founders never spoke from their paintings, although no one knew why. Draco started to speak, and then his eyes widened as a thought occurred to him.

"Bloody hell! Follow me, Potter, I just thought of something!"

Without waiting, Draco turned and ran from the Slytherin common room.

Draco took the stairs two at a time. "Where are we going?" Harry called.

"Ravenclaw Tower," Draco replied.

It seemed to take forever and they were both panting with exertion by the time they reached the western tower. Halfway up, a wave of dizziness had nearly overcome Draco, forcing him to pause for a rest and take the steps at a more leisurely pace. He was both relieved and annoyed when Potter made no comment. As they neared their destination, Harry mentioned that he had never been to Ravenclaw Tower, which seemed odd to Draco considering how much time Potter had spent wandering Hogwarts.

"Never? Not even as the honored guest of your old girlfriend, Cho?"

Harry flushed. "She was never really my girlfriend."

"Too bad you weren't sorted into Slytherin. I could have helped you out in the girl department. You desperately need assistance."

"Screw you, Malfoy," Harry said without conviction. Draco grinned. Potter had to know it was true. Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley? Potter had likely barely made it to the snogging stage with either one. Draco would bet half his fortune The Boy Who Lived was still a virgin. He decided to save that topic for later, when there was more time to wind Potter into a froth.

Similar to Gryffindor Tower, a painting blocked the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. No person stared back at them, but a sphinx crouched on desert sands. It gazed at them expressionlessly. When Draco could breathe normally he said, "We seek entrance."

The sphinx inclined its head and said, "A coin is bottled; the bottle then corked. Remove the coin, but not the cork; and break not the bottle."

"A riddle?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"Of course it's a riddle. It's a sphinx. Do you know the answer?"

"Remove a coin from a corked bottle without taking out the cork or breaking the bottle?"

"That's the _question_, not the answer." Draco grinned. "You really are helpless without Granger, aren't you?" Harry scowled and Draco answered the sphinx. "Simple. You push the cork into the bottle and remove the coin."

The painting swung aside easily.

"No password, but a riddle?" Harry asked.

"Ravenclaws. They love to show off their brainpower."

Draco started inside and Harry followed.

"How did you know? About the riddles, I mean."

"I spent an entertaining evening with a Ravenclaw girl in third year," Draco replied. "She actually devised a chart that showed how different positions—"

"Forget I asked!" Harry said quickly.

"It's your loss," Draco replied and chuckled. "Unfortunately, she transferred to Beauxbatons the following year. Her parents likely found out her primary field of study was male anatomy."

The Ravenclaw common room was currently empty. Most of the Order members were probably in the Great Hall. Draco walked to the huge painting of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Just as I remembered," he said in satisfaction. Harry stood beside him, puzzled. Rowena wore clothing similar to that worn by Slytherin, except the colors were blue and black. Draco pointed to her wrist. "You suspected that the Dark Lord wanted items from each of the Founders, correct? I noticed the locket and ring on Salazar downstairs and I recalled this bracelet."

A large golden bangle bracelet, inlaid with sparkling sapphires, adorned Rowena Ravenclaw's wrist. She smiled down at them gently and raised her hand. A tiny golden raven charm dangled from the bracelet.

"I'll bet you're right," Harry breathed. "Tom Riddle could have located it the same way he found Hufflepuff's cup, while working at Borgin and Burkes." He sighed. "Now we know what to look for, but not where to look. And that doesn't tell us what he might have that belonged to Godric Gryffindor. Dumbledore swore he had the only two Gryffindor artifacts safely in his office—the sword and the Sorting Hat."

"Maybe we should go look at them."

Harry nodded. "At least there are only a few stairs to navigate. I don't need you fainting away on me."

Draco snorted. "I'm surprised you haven't offered to carry me, as much as you seem to enjoy putting your hands on me."

"In your dreams, Malfoy." Draco hadn't seen that particular expression on Potter's face since the day he arrived. The look of pure disgust caused Malfoy to laugh aloud.

Maybe this whole friendship thing wouldn't be so bad, after all.


	37. Chapter 37 Irresistible

**Chapter Thirty Seven - Irresistible**

Hermione returned to the Great Hall and tried to contain her seething anger. There was no need to start a screaming match in front of everyone.

Ron was talking to Luna. Susan Bones and Neville seemed to be arguing vehemently. They were blocking Hermione's path to Ron, so she heard a brief flash of their conversation as she passed.

"…can you possibly defend him?" Susan hissed. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!"

"All I know is that Draco Malfoy saved my life," Neville persisted.

"Do you know that for certain? Or did they just tell you it happened that way?"

Neville drew himself up angrily.

"Are you accusing my friends of intentionally lying? About something like that?"

Hermione paused and looked at them curiously. Her eyes narrowed at Susan, who flushed, even though her face retained its defiant expression.

"Maybe he put them under an _Imperius Curse_."

Hermione laughed without humor, even though she felt like smacking Susan across the face. She answered for Neville. "Really? If so, it was very clever of him to break his own leg and nearly bleed to death. I'm certain he did that in order to force Harry to rescue him and rush him to St. Mungo's for some nefarious purpose. And then he managed to be captured and dragged into the forest where he could conveniently be mauled by Fenrir Greyback, whom he subsequently _captured_, by the way, but I'm positive it was all some sort of elaborate plot!"

Hermione's voice had risen to a near shout. Susan and Neville both stared at her as though she had grown two heads. She felt tears of frustration prick her eyes and flung herself about. No wonder Draco didn't want to be here!

"What's got into her?" she heard Susan ask behind her. "I thought she hated Malfoy more than anyone."

She didn't hear Neville's response as she propelled herself forward. She could barely even remember hating Draco. It seemed a lifetime ago. Now, she just wanted to wrap her arms around him and protect him from those who did not understand the sacrifices he had made. Like the person standing before her.

"Ronald?" she asked sweetly, forcing herself to use as normal a tone as possible and not speak through clenched teeth. "May I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"

Ron grinned, not suspecting the effort Hermione made not to snatch a fistful of his red hair and drag him from the room. She kept her eyes fixed on Luna so he wouldn't notice the simmering rage therein. Luna caught it and blinked at her in surprise.

"I must ask Father how to dispel Creeping Parcleps. We seem to have an infestation. I'll send him an owl right away," Luna said absently.

Hermione forced a smile, as usual having not the foggiest notion what Luna was talking about. She didn't care, either.

"Good idea. Come along, Ronald," Hermione said and led the way past Susan and Neville, who were silent and watched her curiously. She led Weasley through the doors and cast about for a private place where no one would hear him screaming for help. She grinned maliciously at the thought, but shoved the notion aside. She must maintain control. Ron trotted to keep up with her purposeful stride.

"Where are we going?" he asked in puzzlement.

"Right over here," she decided, heading for the small chamber where First Years' waited to be sorted upon their arrival at Hogwarts. Hermione didn't think she'd been in the room since that day. The place was quite dusty. Apparently it wouldn't be cleaned until the first day of the next term approached.

She walked to the center of the chamber, trying to collect her thoughts. Ron had halted when the door shut, possibly picking up some of her tension at last. Wisely, he remained quiet, especially when she turned around to give him a scathing glare.

"Tell me something, Ronald dear," she said mildly. "Is it true that Draco Malfoy owes you a favor?"

Ron's gaze shot to the floor at the same time a bright red flush crept into his cheeks to drown the freckles.

"Where… where did you hear that?" he stammered. She could practically envision his brain trying to seek an out, spinning erratically.

"Jungle drums. Is it true?" she demanded.

"Well… I suppose, sort of."

"You suppose, sort of. Did you, perchance, _ask_ Draco for something? In return for this 'sort of' favor?"

"What are you getting at?" he demanded. She glared. Typical Ron. Defend and deny. She marched forward until she stood directly before him. She had to look up a bit to stare him in the eye, but she was not daunted.

"Did you or did you not warn Draco Malfoy to stay away from me?" she asked. With each word, she poked her index finger sharply into Ron's chest. By the end of the sentence, he was wincing.

There was a long silence and then Ron blurted, "Did Malfoy tell you that? He's bloody lying!"

Hermione snatched a fistful of Ron's shirt and pulled him closer.

"No, Ron. Malfoy didn't say anything. He's just been acting bloody peculiar and so I had to ask myself why. When Harry mentioned you owed Malfoy a favor, everything seemed to click into place. Now, suppose you tell me the truth before I plant one of Ginny's _Bat Bogey Hexes_ on you that you won't forget!"

His blue eyes widened and he struggled to pull himself out of her grip. She raised her wand with her free hand and he looked at it fearfully.

"No!" he cried. "You wouldn't do that to me!"

"Oh wouldn't I?" she gritted.

"Fine, you're right! I told Malfoy to keep away from you! But it was for your own protection, don't you see?"

She released him and shoved him away. Ron stumbled, but caught himself before he fell.

"For my own protection?" she yelled. "What can you possibly be trying to protect me from? I'm nearly eighteen years old, Ronald! I've been of age for months. You aren't trying to protect me from anything! You're just being bloody selfish and you know it!"

Ron glared at her. "No, I'm trying to protect you from _yourself_! You seem to think that Malfoy is oh-so-good, now! How can you possibly feel that way, after the way he's treated you? The way he's treated _us_? He's rotten to the core and he always will be!"

She shook her head. "You're wrong. You accuse me of being blind, yet you are the one that refuses to believe your own eyes. Look at what he's gone through and tell me you still believe he's a Death Eater!"

"I've been deceived before and I don't plan to fall for it again!" Ron shouted. "Peter Pettigrew pretended to be my damned pet for _twelve years_, so no! I'm not going to trust that Draco Malfoy has suddenly turned into our best friend after six bloody days!"

"You're telling me that everything he's done has been part of an elaborate ruse?"

Ron groaned and shook his head. "Probably not everything. I think running into Greyback was unexpected, but yeah, I think it was pretty convenient that Wormtail snatched him up and took him into the forest. It's totally possible that was prearranged."

"Even though Draco looked more like Harry at the time, as well as the fact that Wormtail could just as easily have snatched Harry Potter himself? Think for a moment, Ronald. Stop trying to justify your hatred."

"I don't need to justify it!" Ron snarled. "I can hate him without any justification at all. But don't you find it interesting that he managed to warn you about your parents, but he couldn't do anything to tell us about the Burrow?"

Hermione couldn't explain that, so she didn't try. Maybe Malfoy could have told them and chose not to. She only had Draco's word that he hadn't known in time. She sighed.

"I don't know, Ron. If you're determined to hate him, then so be it. But leave me out of your machinations from now on."

"Machinations? Now, I'm the bad guy for trying to keep you from getting hurt?"

"How am I in danger of being hurt, Ron?" she asked placidly. Ron scowled and kicked at an invisible piece of debris on the floor.

"I don't know," he muttered. "It just seems like you're spending an awful lot of time with Malfoy. What happens if you… fall in love with the bastard, or something?"

"Then I suppose I'll have my little heart crushed, won't I?" She walked forward and put her hands on Ron's shoulders. "It's my risk, Ron. You can't force people to feel what you want them to feel."

Ron's blue eyes reflected pain and defeat.

"You'll never love me, then?" he asked sadly.

"I do love you," she insisted, gripping him tightly. "Very much. Just not in a romantic, passionate way."

"I should never have gone with Lavender Brown," he said morosely. "I only did it to make you jealous."

She grinned. "Well, you did seem to enjoy your neverending snogfest at the time, _Won_."

He flushed. "It wasn't her I wanted to kiss, at all. It was _you_."

"I know." She sighed. "Time has a way of changing everything, doesn't it?"

Ron suddenly put his hands on her waist, leaned down, and kissed her. He put everything he had into it, sliding his hands up to pull her against him tightly. She didn't resist, but she also felt nothing but a curious detachment. He released her with an eloquent sigh of regret.

"Nothing, eh?" he asked as she stepped back.

"I'm so sorry," she said truthfully.

"I bow to Malfoy's superior power of attraction, damn him straight to hell."

"You'll release him from whatever stupid vow he made?"

"Yes. Feel free to have yourself a snogfest, or whatever," he said bitterly. He turned and started out. When he reached the door, she called to him.

"Ron?"

He paused. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He said nothing and the door closed softly behind him.

An examination of McGonagall's office revealed no previously undiscovered Gryffindor artifacts. Harry even removed Gryffindor's sword and swung it experimentally a few times. He brandished it toward Draco and hopped forward in a mock feint.

Draco grabbed the blade with both palms and snatched it from Potter's hand with a quick twist. Harry looked momentarily disgruntled. Draco ignored him and flipped the sword in the air. He caught it by the handle and looked at it curiously.

"Typical Gryffindor ostentation. Gaudy design," Draco commented. He tossed it back to Potter, hilt-first. "But it's no Horcrux." Harry scowled and returned the object to its protective case.

"Well, Dumbledore thought Voldemort's snake might be a Horcrux," he commented. Draco snorted.

"It would be pretty darned stupid to make a Horcrux out of a living being. If that's the case, old Snake-face is a lot barmier than I gave him credit for. Just to be safe, I say we chop the snake to pieces." He shuddered. "I hate that bloody reptile."

"We have to find it, first," Harry mentioned.

"Give the Dark Lord time. Sooner or later, he'll find you."

"I'd rather not sit around waiting for that day."

"We need to locate the Ravenclaw bracelet, anyway."

"Maybe Hermione has an idea," Harry said.

"Can you send her one of those Patronus messages? How do you cast that, anyway?"

"I probably should teach you. You could have signaled us from the forest. I'd rather not rely on Scrying in the future. It's a good thing Hermione found your comb, or we would never have located you."

"She took my comb?"

"It's in Firenze's room. I think we sort of left it there in our hurry to rescue you."

"Bloody hell. Now, it probably has centaur contamination!"

"I doubt Firenze will use your comb," Harry said dryly.

"If it did, you'll be buying me a new one, Potter."

"I'll buy you three if you shut up about the stupid comb."

"Fine. Shall we get on with this spell?" Draco demanded, making a mental note to retrieve his comb and have a chat with Hermione Granger about nicking people's personal items. He loved that comb.

Potter walked him through the intricacies of the spell and showed him how to insert the message at the correct point. To demonstrate, Harry cast his Patronus and the silvery stag enveloped Draco for a moment while he absorbed the simple message.

Draco nodded. "Quite clever."

"Dumbledore invented it. Now, let's see you try it."

"No thanks. I've got the mechanics down. Should be a snap if the need arises."

Harry looked puzzled.

"Why not just practice it?"

"Too tired," Draco said nonchalantly. It wasn't the real reason, but he _was_ feeling rather exhausted, even though he'd slept most of the day. "I think I'll go turn in."

Harry looked puzzled, but Draco had no intention of _ever_ letting Potter get a glimpse of his Patronus. He'd have to be flat on the ground with a werewolf carving a furrow across his chest to even think of casting one. He grimaced at the memory.

"We'll figure out something tomorrow, eh Potter?"

"Malfoy, if you want… you can stay in Gryffindor Tower. Everyone else will be there. Luna can't stay in Ravenclaw Tower because the Order is there, and the Hufflepuff dungeon is currently filled with Death Eaters, so…"

Draco paused at the notion and turned horrified eyes on Harry.

"God, no! I'll stay in my nice, quiet, empty dungeon, if you don't mind. But… thanks for the offer."

Draco headed down the steps and back to his room.

He was astonished when he nearly ran down Hermione Granger in the Slytherin common room. She came out of his room as he entered. They stared at each other in shocked surprise for a moment.

"You've decided to transfer to Slytherin, then?" he asked.

"Actually, I just brought you some clothes. I set them on your bed," she replied.

"What clothes? I thought I had quite run out of those. Did I suddenly acquire some?" Draco walked past her and looked at several paper-wrapped bundles that were stacked on the end of his bed.

"Yes. I knew you couldn't retrieve you own, and since you and Harry are nearly the same size… Well, I ordered some from Diagon Alley. They just arrived."

Draco looked at her measuringly and tore open one of the packages. Several silk shirts spilled out in varying colors: pale green, grey, black, and buttercup yellow. He held that one up questioningly.

"_Yellow?_"

"I thought it would look nice with your hair," she said softly. He raised a brow at the thought of Hermione pondering how he would look in different colors. A wicked smiled curved his lips. Hermione gaze was flitting about the room as she looked anywhere but directly at Draco.

"I can't pay you for these, quite yet," he said.

"I know. Actually, Harry sort of paid for them from his account."

He dropped the shirt and shot her a censured look. "Harry Potter. Lovely. I hate being in debt to Gryffindors."

"I'm a Gryffindor!" she protested.

"Yes, but you're different."

"Now I'm a _different_ Gryffindor? You're the one constantly telling me what a typical Gryffindor I am. Which is it?"

"It seems to change from moment to moment," he decided flippantly.

She sighed deeply. "I should go. I only came here to bring these to you, not to become frustrated by your twisted logic."

"My logic is perfectly straight."

She threw up her hands. "I refuse to argue with you. Good night."

"Granger… wait."

Hermione paused, partially turned, and looked at him expectantly. He walked forward quickly and stood painfully close to her in the manner he knew she hated. She raised her eyes hesitantly.

"Thanks for the clothes," he murmured.

She blushed and looked away. "You're welcome." She paused. "You know, I have something else that belongs to you."

She pulled the Galleon from her pocket and held it up by the braided cord of her hair. It glinted in the flickering light from the lamps as it spun slowly. "Do you want it back?"

"Yes."

She tugged out her wand and then reached up to slide the cord around his neck. He nearly forgot to breathe as she leaned into him. Her wrist brushed the side of his throat and she gripped both broken ends together with one hand. She tapped it with her wand and murmured a repair spell. Her fingers caressed his skin in a feather light touch as she released the braid.

"You know, I've just decided something," he said thickly.

"What's that?"

"To hell with Weasley."

His arms embraced her and his mouth crushed down on hers. She gave a sigh of what sounded like pure relief and he felt her hands slide upward into his hair. God, she tasted incredible. He teased her lips with his, trying to pace himself and resisting the urge to turn and drag her onto his bed. His hands caressed her back and he felt a delicious shudder run through her frame.

Her hands were in his hair and pressed against the back of his neck, holding him against her as she returned his kiss eagerly. Her breath was hot where it mingled with his. Bloody hell, she wanted him as much as he wanted her! His racing pulse thundered in his temples.

He broke their kiss and staggered against her suddenly, overcome with weakness. She gasped and held him up while he regained his balance.

"Draco! You idiot, when was the last time you ate anything?"

He warmed at the sound of his name, even though she'd followed it with an insult. "I don't recall. Last time that Pomfrey woman fed me, I suppose."

"Damn it, you need to eat to regain your strength. You should probably be taking potions, as well. Now, lie down."

"I'd rather pick up where we left off a moment ago."

She blushed. "As would I, but we really don't need you fainting away when the blood leaves your brain, do we?"

"Malfoys don't faint," he grumbled, but he sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling blackness licking at the edges of his vision. He was hungry, now that she'd mentioned food.

"Get undressed and I'll fetch you a tray."

He raised a brow at her words and suppressed a grin. "I don't think I can undress myself. I'm feeling quite weak."

She looked at him suspiciously. He tried to look helpless.

"I don't believe you for a minute," she said, but she reached for the arms of his shirt, anyway. She succeeded in stretching the material and finally knelt slightly to grasp the fabric around his waist. Hermione pulled the white shirt up and over his head and then stared at him for a moment. Draco grinned wickedly as her eyes skimmed over his frame and back up to his hair, which currently crackled around his head in an electric halo. She looked at him with something akin to panic.

"Don't stop now, you're doing so well."

"I can't," she whispered.

He chuckled. "I know; the sight of me will cause you to lose all control and pounce on me in a frenzy of lust, right?"

"I'll be right back with your tray," she said hoarsely and scurried out.

Draco slipped out of his trousers and relaxed back on the pillows. He smoothed his hair down, wishing he had remembered to fetch his comb. He pulled the blankets modestly up to his chest and then pushed them down to a handspan beneath his navel, thankful that his abdomen was flat as a board. He put both hands behind his head and whistled tonelessly while he waited for Hermione to return.

She nearly dropped the tray when she saw him.

"Don't you have pajamas?" she asked.

"Malfoys don't sleep in pajamas."

"Malfoys must catch their death in the winter." She propped the tray over his lap rather brusquely. "Eat everything. Madam Pomfrey had these ready for you. She sent them to the kitchen to be taken with your dinner." She indicated two potion vials that clanked against the bowl.

"I refuse to take _those_ without a glass of La Romanee-Conti. They taste wretched."

"Without a what?" she asked blankly.

A house-elf suddenly popped into the room holding a glass of red wine. It bowed low and handed the glass to Draco, who took it. The house-elf disappeared.

"Useful little creatures, at times," he commented and sipped the glass. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't even get me started on your appalling treatment of house-elves," she said primly and began to fold his new clothing. She opened his trunk and started to put the items away. Draco tucked into his food with the realization that he was famished. Hermione had brought him a huge quantity of roast beef and boiled vegetables.

"What is this?" she asked, walking from his trunk and holding up a small black book. Draco looked at it in surprise. He'd completely forgotten about it after tossing it there when he'd arrived.

"Snape gave it to me. He said it was spells he didn't have time to teach me."

Hermione sat on the edge of Goyle's bed and began to thumb through the book.

Draco warned, "I wouldn't sit there if I were you. If you only knew what Goyle did in that bed…"

She shot to her feet and moved quickly to sit on Draco's bed near his knee. In moments, she was absorbed in the spell book. Draco finished his plate, drained the potions, and sipped at the last of his wine while he watched her. He was pleasantly full, nicely warmed by the alcohol, and perfectly content for the first time in a long while.

"These are really advanced. Most of them are horrible," she commented. He leaned over and plucked the book from her hands. He tossed it on the bedside table.

"Read later. Remove this tray, wench, and let's get back to kissing."

She scowled at him, but lifted the tray and set it on Goyle's bed.

"No more kissing. You need to rest."

"Won't you stay with me? Just for awhile?" he asked softly. He read an agony of indecision on her face and her teeth nibbled at her lower lip for a moment. He added, "I promise not to touch you. I really am tired."

"You promise?" she asked dubiously.

"Absolutely."

"I hate it when you make insane ideas sound perfectly reasonable."

"It _is_ reasonable. I'm weak as a kitten. Now, come here." He lifted the covers invitingly. Amazingly, she kicked off her shoes and slid into bed next to him. She rested her head on his chest. One hand splayed over the scar left by Greyback. Draco put his arm around her shoulders and sighed in satisfaction. She traced the reddened line gently.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not a bit. Useful birds, phoenixes."

He pressed his lips against her hair and breathed in the damned apple scent of her, wondering what the consequences would be of breaking two promises in one night. In the end, he was simply too tired to do any promise breaking and dropped off to sleep with the reassuring feel of Hermione pressed against him.


	38. Chapter 38 Wedding Plans

**Chapter Thirty Eight – Wedding Plans**

Hermione woke slowly to the delightful sensation of being wrapped in Draco's arms. She pondered leaving for all of five seconds, but realized she couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Her head was lying over Draco's left arm and her hair was trapped quite firmly beneath him. His chin rested against the top of her head and his right arm was flung carelessly over her chest. His right leg lay across her hips, effectively trapping her beneath his delicious warmth. The room was dreadfully cold, she realized.

Her right arm was between them, though her palm lay upon her waist and the edge of her hand touched Draco's bare thigh. Her other hand sat familiarly on his bicep.

She had nearly left him the night before—had gotten out of bed quite late without stirring him, but she had paused to look at him and that had been her undoing. His silver hair had glinted in the candlelight and his features had looked so beautiful and guileless… She had sent Harry a quick _Patronus_ message and transfigured her clothing into pajamas—demure, warm, modest pajamas—and gotten back into bed with Draco.

Now she listened to the even sound of his breathing and felt the steady movement of his chest against her shoulder. She wondered what time it was—the darkness of the dungeon made it bloody difficult to determine that simple fact. She released Draco's arm and raised her wrist to look at the glowing numbers on her watch face. 6:42.

The tiny movement was enough to wake him. The rhythm of his breathing changed slightly and he tensed minutely, most likely in surprise.

"You didn't leave," he murmured.

"Apparently not. Did you want me to?"

He chuckled. "Definitely not."

"How do you feel?"

"You tell me."

She giggled. "You feel nice and warm."

"I feel wonderful. Would you like me to show you?"

Without waiting for her response, Draco levered himself downward in a lithe motion and twisted himself about. The movement ended with him lying half-atop her. His face hovered over hers for a moment and her heartbeat responded instantly to the look in his silvery eyes. She felt like a foolish damsel that had wandered into the dragon's lair. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she found that she didn't care.

After several soul-stirring kisses, he asked, "Do you think it was wise to stay here with me?" Hermione could barely breathe.

"No," she admitted. "It was probably the exact opposite of wise."

He made a noncommittal sound of agreement and proceeded to prove her words true beyond the shadow of a doubt.

An hour later, Hermione's body alternated between icy cold and blisteringly hot. Tremors of mindless desire enveloped her with a nearly physical pain; and all Draco had done was kiss her. She would never have imagined the variety of things one could do with lips, tongue, and teeth, but Draco could have written volumes on the subject. His hands had remained clamped firmly on either side of her waist—she marveled at his self-control and cursed him for toying with her. Hermione's restraint was completely gone. Her hands alternately twisted in his silken hair or gripped the smooth skin of his back and shoulders.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it any more, when she was nearing the point of begging—for what, she wasn't sure—he drew a ragged breath and kissed his way down her neck. Her relief was short-lived.

She didn't stop him when his hands slipped up to undo the first few buttons of her top. She didn't want to stop him. He followed his hands with his lips, button by button, until he reached her navel. His tongue plunged into the hollow and she gasped sharply and arched against him as a new form of desire flooded her senses.

Incredibly, he raised his head. His eyes looked like dusky pools in the near-darkness.

"So," he asked casually, "What shall we do today?"

The incongruous question couldn't quite penetrate Hermione's fogged mind.

"I imagine we can either go search for Horcruxes, or stay here where I can spend a few hours driving you half-mad with indescribable ecstacy."

Hermione thought her heart would stop for a moment and she struggled to find her voice.

"Hours?" was all she managed in a hoarse tone.

She could make out the twist of his incredible, talented lips as he smiled wickedly.

"Of course. You should know I'm not the type to pleasure myself, roll over, and light up a cigar while giving you a dismissive pat on the fanny… It's far more satisfying to bring you to the pinnacle of delight over… and over… and over." With each repetition, his tongue dipped into her navel and she shuddered, having no difficulty believing his words. He chuckled.

"I…" She couldn't seem to form a coherent thought. She knew she should choose the sensible route. Stop him from… _hours of driving her half-mad with indescribable ecstacy_. Although she really couldn't think of a valid reason why, at the moment.

He laid his cheek against her belly for a moment and her hand touched his sleek hair tenderly. She felt a sudden rush of something that wasn't desire. Something stronger and even more terrifying. She swallowed hard and refused to acknowledge it. Draco sighed.

Hermione held her breath when he raised his head again. His tongue touched her skin once more, sliding upward over the hill of her ribcage, caressing her breastbone, and followed the links of the chain around her neck. His breath was hot in her ear as he nibbled it with his teeth, sending shivers down her spine again.

"You're not quite ready for this, are you?" he asked. His voice wasn't amused or accusatory or disappointed—it was simply matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so," she managed shakily.

"All right, Granger. I'll let you escape with your virtue intact. This time." The words were tinged with amusement.

He pushed himself away from her and rested his head on the pillow. He left one hand on her stomach and his fingertips brushed her ribcage in a teasing caress. She began to fasten her buttons; glad he couldn't see the color of her cheeks in the dim light. She tried to convince herself that she was relieved.

"As I was asking, since you snuffed my first choice—what shall we do today?"

She forced herself not to think of his first choice.

"I do have one idea where we might find a Horcrux, but I don't think we should tell Harry," she said in as normal a voice as possible.

Draco gasped in mock astonishment.

"You? Keeping a secret from The Chosen One? Won't you have to turn in your Gryffindor robes for such an offense?"

She smacked him lightly on the bare chest.

"I have a good reason. But, I've been thinking—"

"When are you not thinking?"

She ignored that.

"I've been thinking about your parents."

Draco's hand on her skin ceased its motion.

"What about them?"

"How safe do you think they are? You've had some very close calls. What if Wormtail or Greyback had escaped to Voldemort with the news that you were alive? What do you think would happen to them?"

"I try not to think about it," he admitted. "But I don't know where they are. Which reminds me—how did you find me when I was in the forest?"

"I used a Scrying pool. Well, Firenze did, actually."

Draco's features twisted. "The bloody centaur?"

She scowled. "Yes, the bloody centaur. If not for Firenze, you would have been a werewolf's dinner."

"No, Fenrir had other plans for me," Draco said absently.

"What do you have against centaurs, anyway? They are intelligent living beings."

"So are Cornish Pixies, but that doesn't make them any less revolting."

"Centaurs are not revolting!"

Draco sneered. "Half-man, half-horse? Think about it! It's a perversion of nature."

Hermione sat up in annoyance and climbed out of his bed. She was almost grateful that they had returned to the comfortable state of continual disagreement.

"Your bigotry knows no bounds," she snapped and transfigured her clothing back into jeans and a T-shirt. She sat down and tugged her shoes on. Draco hadn't moved. She didn't need to look at him to know he was watching her with his patented annoying smirk.

She grabbed her wand and lit several candles before she walked to the dressing table and snatched up his comb. She yanked it through her tangled locks.

"Nice of you to return my comb," he commented.

"I didn't want you to have a panic attack when you noticed it missing."

Her eyes touched his in the mirror and she laughed at his expression. She carefully pulled the accumulated hair from the silver comb and vanished it before dropping the comb back onto the table.

"I'm going to get some breakfast. Are you coming?" she asked.

"I'll be along."

She shrugged and started out.

"Hey, Granger?"

She paused and looked back at him.

"Your shirt—what does it mean?"

Hermione blinked at him. She had unthinkingly turned her shirt into a duplicate of one of her favorites. It said ADIDAS. Almost, she told him the truth—that it was a Muggle company that made shoes. Instead, she grinned wickedly.

"It's an acronym. It stands for All Day I Dream About _Sex_."

She went out and Draco's incredible laugh followed her. She smiled. He was maddening, but so utterly damned attractive. She began to think virtue was overrated. _Hours._ God.

Draco watched Hermione leave and the bemused smiled stayed on his lips. He still couldn't quite resolve his astonishment at finding her in his bed. She was braver than he'd thought. His smile vanished at the memory of her warm and willing beneath him. She'd tested his control to its very limit. He wasn't quite sure why he'd stopped. After all, it had been Hermione's decision to stay. She probably wouldn't even have blamed him—afterward.

He realized he didn't want to take the chance. Hermione Granger would never be anyone's casual shag. Draco wasn't quite certain he wanted to sign on for the alternative: Commitment. Relationship. All that crap. He shuddered.

He swung his feet to the floor and sat up, pleased to note that a wave of dizziness did not accompany the motion. Pomfrey's potions seemed to be working. Draco rose and rifled through his new clothing. He spread several outfits out on the bed, admitting that Granger had some bloody good taste where he was concerned. She was even right about the yellow—it would probably look fabulous on him.

Draco wasn't quite ready to dispense with his brooding image, so he chose a silk shirt of charcoal grey and black trousers. He added a black cashmere jumper just because he liked the feel of it. He wet his hair from the nearby pitcher and carefully combed his golden locks back into place, trying not to think about Hermione tangling it in a mindless frenzy.

Damn. He'd probably have to go find Weasley and make some sort of amends. He'd not only broken his promise, he'd drop-kicked it off the parapet and watched it smash into smithereens. Draco grinned. Well, it had been worth it.

He walked into the Great Hall, ignored everyone gathered within, and sat down at his usual spot. A huge array of food magically appeared before him and he ate while casting a glance about the room. No one seemed to have noticed him, as they were all gathered near the teachers' table. Fleur Delacour was the current center of attention as she held up a lacy and sequin-bedecked white gown. Draco noticed the group was mainly female—Fleur, Molly Weasley, Hermione, the redheaded stick girl that Harry liked, and Luna Lovegood. He assumed Susan Bones was off practicing her petulant scowl.

The only other males present were Ron and Bill Weasley, and Bill was sidling away as if trying to make an escape. Bill spotted Draco and—to Malfoy's surprise—quickly strode in his direction. Draco watched him suspiciously and sipped his tea, wondering if he would have to suffer yet another Weasley tirade.

Bill sat down next to him and poured himself a cup.

"Wedding plans," he commented and sighed. "If a man has a brain, he just sits back, smiles, and says, 'That sounds fabulous, dear.' No matter the subject."

Draco didn't comment, deciding he'd rather be back in Fenrir's cluches than stand before an altar and willingly attach a permanent ball and chain to his ankle. Hermione caught his eye at that moment and beamed at him, causing Draco to break out in something of a cold sweat. He pushed his plate away.

"We're going to have the wedding here," Bill continued. "We planned to have it at the Burrow, but… that's not an option any longer. McGonagall says plenty of people have married here during the summer. Popular location, apparently. Fleur can't decide whether to have the ceremony in the courtyard, near the forest, near the lake, or God knows what other location. She wasn't too pleased when I mentioned we could have it in the Slytherin dungeon for all I care. That's when I knew it was time to retreat."

Draco said nothing, wondering why Weasley was talking to him at all. He noticed Ron standing near the women, clearing wishing he could escape, also, but not at all thrilled with the option Bill had chosen—Draco's company. Malfoy returned his gaze to Bill, who was clearly the handsomest of the Weasley clan, even with the jagged group of scars that marred one side of his face. His hair was coppery and pulled back into a lengthy ponytail. His blue eyes slanted to meet Draco's.

"If you're finished, will you take a walk with me?"

Draco shrugged and nodded. Bill rose and Malfoy followed, cocking a brow when they headed for the entrance to the Hufflepuff dungeon. The corridors were dark, but not nearly as mazelike as on the Slytherin side. Cressets flared into light ahead of them as they walked. Before long, they stood before a barred gate. The walls glowed magically with a bluish light and Draco watched as Fenrir Greyback got to his feet and walked to the bars to peer out at them.

"Visitors, eh? Why, if it isn't little Malfoy and a Weasley." Greyback's eyes narrowed at Bill in recognition. Draco felt a sudden odd kinship with the tall Weasley. He realized that he and Bill might be the only two of Fenrir's victims that hadn't been killed or turned into werewolves. "Back for more?"

Bill didn't speak, but the look in his eyes was cold. He turned and continued up the corridor. Draco looked at Fenrir for a moment longer. Captivity didn't seem to have affected the werewolf much. Greyback's fangs showed in a horrible smile.

"Just a few more days, Draco. A few more days and these bars won't hold me. Then, I'll be looking for you and your new little friends. Your tasty flesh will be mine, Malfoy. All mine." A hand snatched through the bars, grabbing at Draco, who wasn't the least surprised at the action. The sharp nails clawed the air a few inches from Draco's chest. He glared at the werewolf.

"I don't think so," he said and followed Bill, who had stopped at another cell four doors down. Bill entered and Draco looked inside curiously. A sturdy table had been placed in the room and Draco's iron cage rested atop it. Wormtail still scrabbled around inside. Bill bent down to look through the bars at the squeaking rat.

"Nice job on the lock," Bill commented. Draco remembered that this Weasley worked at Gringotts and likely had a passable knowledge of locks.

"I'm glad to see no one has let him out."

Bill shook his head. "He spent years and years as a rat. As far as I'm concerned, he can stay that way. Some of the others think he could lead us to Voldemort."

"No. Even if they let him out and kept him from bolting through a rathole, I'm sure the Dark Lord has placed enough safeguard spells on him that he'd be a gibbering mound of flesh before he could spill any secrets."

"Look, he's been scraping at the bars."

Draco bent close and spied a dusting of iron shavings on the table. Wormtail had been using his silver paw to try and cut through the bars. Draco grinned.

"Magic hand on iron bars? Bet that hurts, eh Pettigrew?"

The rat leaped at him and bared its teeth. Draco waggled a finger at him temptingly, just near enough so Wormtail couldn't reach him.

"Temper, temper," Draco cautioned. He straightened up and looked at Bill. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I don't know. Ron is always talking about you like you're evil incarnate. I figured he was either terribly jealous, or in madly love with you."

Draco choked for a moment and had to cough a few times to get his breathing back to normal.

"_What?_"

Bill laughed. "Well, you never know. Don't worry; I think its simple jealousy. We would have seen signs of the other thing by now."

"Let's bloody well hope so!"

Weasley laughed again. "You're all right in my book, Malfoy. Want to come to the wedding?"

"When is it?"

Bill's laugh was contagious this time.

"Damned if I can remember."


	39. Chapter 39 Snape's Message

**Chapter Thirty Nine – Snape's Message**

Draco and Bill bypassed Fenrir, ignoring the werewolf's angry slurs and grasping claws. On the way out, Draco looked at Bill Weasley.

"Do you think the bars will hold? When he changes?"

"I don't know. Lupin would, maybe."

"I'll put Granger on it. If anyone can come up with a solution to keep Greyback contained, she will."

Bill shot him a sidelong glance.

"I thought you hated her."

To his horrified chagrin, Draco felt himself flush. "Not exactly."

They walked back to the Great Hall. To Draco's relief, others had arrived to dilute the female content of the room, including Potter, Longbottom, and the Weasley twins. Susan Bones had apparently crawled out of her wolverine hole and Remus Lupin was teasing the strange girl whose hair was lime green today. She smacked Lupin playfully on the arm, blushing. Draco was somewhat surprised at that. He had always assumed Lupin favored the gents. Like Bill had said, you never knew.

Fleur had put the dress away, but most of the girls were still gathered around the table, no doubt gushing over foolish mundanities such as flowers, ribbons, and shoe colors. Draco's mother had often wrapped herself up in such feminine details. As a boy, Draco had been dragged to more horrifying weddings, baby showers, and other girlish functions than he cared to remember.

Luna spied Draco and left the giggling gaggle to force a pleased hug on him. He couldn't decide whether or not he appreciated Luna's unreserved acceptance. Of all Harry Potter's underlings, she had been the first to forgive Draco's past. She stepped back and looked at Bill seriously.

"Fleur is considering royal blue for the dress robes."

"Bad idea," Draco said without thinking. "If the ceremony is outside on a warm day, it will be beastly hot. The wedding party will faint away. She'd better stick with pastels…" His voice trailed away.

Luna nodded solemnly and Bill clapped him on the shoulder.

"You'd better come with me. I think you've spent too much time in the company of women, lately."

About to take him up on the offer, Draco was halted when a silver _Patronus_ streaked into the room and enveloped him. When the mist dissipated, he noticed everyone was staring at him in shocked silence.

"Snape! That was Snape's Patronus!" one of the Weasley twins yelled. The room erupted into pandemonium. Susan Bones leaped to her feet.

"I knew it!" she yelled.

She was joined by Ginny Weasley, who glared at Draco with hands on her hips. McGonagall hurried over and her heels clicked rapidly on the hard floor.

"What did he want, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked sharply.

"Yes, what did he want?" Susan demanded. "Are you planning to let more Death Eaters into the school? Who are you plotting to kill this time? Harry Potter?"

Hermione raced past the others and stood next to Draco. She latched onto his arm. He wanted to shake her off and confront the angry hoard alone in his growing rage, but he was secretly relieved at her show of support.

"Stop it!" she cried. "You don't understand!"

"Then let him explain, Hermione," Lupin said reasonably. "Was that not Severus Snape's _Patronus_?"

"You know it was!" Fred or George yelled.

"We've seen that bloody panther enough times to know," the other twin added.

"Speak up, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall commanded in her professor voice. "What was his message?"

Draco glared at them all. He didn't dare disclose the contents of the message to this raving group of do-gooders. Hermione sensed his reluctance and her grip tightened.

"Take him downstairs with the other bloody Death Eaters!" Susan yelled angrily. "Better to be safe than let him betray us again!"

Several shouts, both in agreement and otherwise, followed her words. Fred and George raised their wands. Draco reached for his own, fighting Hermione's grip as he did so.

Harry Potter suddenly leaped in front of Draco with arms outstretched, as if to safeguard Malfoy from harm.

"Leave him alone!" Potter yelled in a voice that locked everyone into a frozen tableau. "I trust Malfoy and no one will be dragging him off to join Fenrir Greyback and the Carrows! Now, back off!" Harry's wand was out. While he wasn't actually threatening his friends, the potential was there.

"But Harry—" Lupin began.

"Hermione, take Malfoy outside. I'll be out in a minute," Harry ordered. Hermione pulled at Draco's arm. He resisted for a moment, but then Bill Weasley stepped up to stand beside Harry. The Weasley siblings looked at him in shaken surprise. Draco allowed Hermione to tow him outside, reflecting that it was shaping up to be a very unusual day. Who would have suspected he would actually _like_ a Weasley?

They walked down the steps outside and headed for Hagrid's hut, but stopped near the bush where they had previously argued. Hermione released Draco and pulled a leaf from the bush thoughtfully. She didn't speak.

"Snape wants me to meet him," Draco said. She looked at him.

"Meet him? Where? And why?"

"He didn't say why. He wants to meet this afternoon. Three o' clock. At Stonehenge."

"Stonehenge? Why there?"

Draco shrugged. "That was the whole message."

"At this time of year, it will be packed with Muggle tourists. That's probably the point—it's a public place and the likelihood of running into other wizards is slim," Hermione rationalized.

"Snape knows I've been there. He took the whole of Slytherin House there once, to show us how to brew Pepperup Potion. It required gathering sacred dust during the Winter Solstice."

Hermione looked indignant. "Snape showed you how to brew Pepperup Potion?"

"Sure. He gave us plenty of off-hours instruction. Why do you think all the Slytherins passed Potions? Even Crabbe and Goyle?"

"I thought it was simple favoritism. I didn't know he was actually _helping_ you. That's like… cheating!"

Draco grinned. "Only a Gryffindor would look at it like that."

The front doors opened and Harry Potter stalked out to join them, followed by Ron Weasley. Harry's hand was already gripping his hair.

_One, two, three_, Draco counted. Potter scowled at Draco as he approached.

"Lovely. Now the Order is highly suspicious, thinking I'm collaborating with Death Eaters. _Me!_"

_Four, five._ Draco placidly redelivered Snape's message.

"Well, that couldn't have come at a worse time," Harry said and tugged. _Six_. "What do you suppose he wants?"

"I don't know, but it must be important for him to risk a _Patronus_."

"Right. Why didn't he just send an owl?"

"Not enough time?" Hermione suggested. "If he's surrounded by Death Eaters, he might have only had a moment. And owls can be intercepted."

The door opened again to reveal Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. They paused for a moment and then moved to join their group.

"Whatever you're doing," Neville said, "We're in."

"We're not doing anything," Ron replied evasively.

"Of course we are. We're going to meet Snape," said Hermione.

"Now, wait a minute—" Harry and Draco said together. They glanced at each other in puzzlement.

"Oh, that's just great," Ron spat. "It was bad enough when they only looked like each other."

"The Order is going to be watching us like eagles spying field mice. After our last escapade, they won't let me within fifty meters of the front gates," Harry said. _Seven_.

"You'll just have to stay behind, Harry," Hermione said. She held up a hand when he would have argued. "You're going to have to deal with Lupin. Tell him whatever you need too—even the truth, if necessary. We can't afford not to meet Snape."

"I'm going alone," Draco said firmly. Hermione smiled at him as though he were a silly child.

"Of course you're not. We have no idea what Snape's motives are. This could be a trap, for all we know. Voldemort may have found out that Snape helped you; he could be under an _Imperius Curse_; it could be any number of things. We are going with you."

A muscle in Draco's jaw twitched and he looked at Potter through accusatory eyes. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, it's nearly impossible to argue with her. You might as well give in and save yourself some hair."

"Then it's settled. We'll make ourselves conspicuous until noon and then we'll slip out and meet over behind Hagrid's hut. We'll have to skirt the forest to reach the wall. Once over, we can _Disapparate_ from there. Ron, are you coming?"

Weasley nodded, although his expression suggested he was only going along to keep a suspicious eye on Draco.

"I'm coming, too," Neville said.

"Me, too!" Luna cried. Draco looked sidelong at her.

"I thought you refused to _Apparate_."

Luna tossed her head airily. "This is an emergency. As long as no one tells my father, I'll do it. As long as Hermione takes me through. I trust her not to splinch me."

"You trust _her_ not to splinch you? Now you tell us. Couldn't you have mentioned that in Dover?"

Luna waved away Draco's shout. "We had plenty of time in Dover. Besides, it gave us time to get to know each other better." She moved forward and took Draco's bicep before she leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Remember the Muggle cab? Wasn't it romantic?"

Draco shot Hermione a pained glare when she giggled.

"Does she really have to come?" he pleaded.

"Well, what if we run into a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" Hermione asked drolly.

"Of course we won't! They're only in Sweden," Luna scoffed. She pressed a kiss against Draco's jaw. "See you at noon, Puffskein."

She wandered back toward the castle. Neville looked at Draco in bewilderment, but said nothing as he turned to follow Luna. Hermione was struggling to contain her laughter. Harry kept his expression carefully neutral. As Luna and Neville approached the doors, they burst open and Ginny Weasley stalked through them. Her glare was icy.

"Uh oh, you're in trouble now, Potter," Draco said. _Eight. Nine._ Potter's hair was standing out in all directions.

"I guess I'd better go do some damage control," Harry said grimly. "Malfoy, since chaos follows you around like a specter, do you think you can stay out of trouble for awhile? Please?"

"I'll try, darling," Draco said meekly and batted his lashes. Harry glared at him. _Ten, eleven, twelve._ Harry sighed and stalked off to placate Ginny. Draco tsked after him.

"He could do so much better than the redheaded stick girl," Draco muttered. "Sorry, Weasley." Ron's glare was more venomous than usual. "I know she's your sister, but God, what a horror."

"Can you drop the subject?" Ron snapped. Draco shrugged.

"Suit yourself. He's _your_ friend. If you want him to be henpecked by that budding harpy—"

"Draco!" Hermione said warningly. He gave her a smile guaranteed to melt a block of ice and saw the breath hitch in her throat.

"Actually, Weasley, we need to have a little chat. Now." He looked pointedly at Hermione. She looked from one of them to the other and then shrugged and headed for the school, leaving Ron and Draco to stare at each other in uncomfortable silence.

"Look, Weasley—" Draco began.

"I release you from your vow," Ron blurted. Draco blinked at him for a moment in surprise.

"What did you say?"

"I release you. You don't have to stay away from Hermione; since it's obvious she won't stay away from _you_, anyway."

Draco watched Ron curiously while he assimilated the astonishing news. Weasley's face resembled that of someone who'd bitten into a lemon.

"Well," Draco said finally, somewhat at a loss for words. He had been steeling himself all morning to confess to Ron and now the point was moot. Draco grinned.

"Of course, if you hurt her in any way, I will figure out how to return the favor," Ron threatened, trying to sound fierce. Strangely, Draco kept thinking of Bill Weasley's words while gauging Ron's expression.

"I consider myself duly warned," Draco said mildly.

"I'm not joking, Malfoy!" Weasley snarled. Draco's grin widened even though he wasn't intentionally trying to provoke Weasley. He was just… happy.

"Understood," he said crisply. He thought about saluting. Ron's hand twitched, likely itching to reach for his wand. Malfoy decided it was time to depart. Hermione waited for him near the doors. Harry and Ginny were yelling a distance away—far enough that their voices could not be heard.

"Doesn't it warm your cockles to see such a happy couple?" Draco asked. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. Draco rubbed the spot and gave her a wounded look. "I bruise easily, you know!"

"Of course. You and your flawless skin. What did you and Ron talk about?"

"Weasley gave me permission to snog you whenever I like."

"He did _what_?"

"The competition was too much for him. He's withdrawn from the race. First intelligent thing he's done in a long while, actually."

"Withdrawn from the race," Hermione repeated. Her voice was flat.

"To the victor go the spoils and all that," Draco quipped. "Want to come back to my room with me?" He dropped the teasing timbre from his voice and watched gleefully when her eyes darkened and a flush crept into her cheeks.

"Absolutely not."

"Liar."

Hermione huffed in exasperation and went inside. Draco watched the bickering couple for a moment before he entered the castle and retreated to the Slytherin common room. Best to avoid angry Order members—and that lunatic Susan Bones—for awhile.

Hagrid was tending his garden when Draco and the others converged just beyond the fence. He looked at them suspiciously, staring particularly long and hard at Draco.

"What're you lot up ter?" he asked Hermione gruffly as he brushed the dirt from his hands and walked over to lean on the fence. It creaked dangerously.

"Just going for a walk," Hermione said brightly and Draco nearly clapped a hand to his forehead. Never leave the lying to a Gryffindor.

"Bloody hell, Granger, just tell him the truth," he snapped. "We're going into the forest to gather Panther Caps for a potion Granger wants to brew. It might help us locate the Dark Lord."

Hagrid's thick brows rose.

"What yer want ter do that for?"

Draco's eyes narrowed at the gormless, half-giant imbecile.

"Do you recall that he's trying to kill us?" he asked slowly, as if speaking to a very small, very stupid, child. Hermione gave him a disapproving look.

"'Course I do!"

"It's probably a good idea to find him before he attacks again, don't you think, Hagrid?" Neville asked before Draco could utter a scathing reply.

Hagrid sighed, apparently realizing he couldn't argue with all of them. "I 'spose. Don't wander far in there. Them centaurs is all anti-wizard at the moment. If ye need help, just send a _Patronus_."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Hermione said. "We'll be careful." Her voice was dripping with guilt, but thankfully Hagrid was too dense to pick up on it. The gamekeeper waved and went back to digging in his dirt.

They didn't venture far into the forest, as none of them had any inclination to encounter any of the forest denizens. They finally reached the wall and Hermione levitated them over without effort.

"I don't meet with Snape until three," Draco said. "What are we going to do for two hours? Sightsee?"

"No, we need to make a stop first. Ron, we're going to Godric's Hollow. You take Neville through and I'll take Luna. I'll come back for Draco."

"Godric's Hollow?" Ron looked taken aback. "Why there?"

"I'll explain when we get there. Let's go."

The four of them popped out of existence and Draco glanced around, hoping Hermione could find her way back. He didn't see any prominent landmarks—just wall, trees, and bushes.

She _Apparated_ in front of him and stepped closer to grip his shoulders. Not one to miss an opportunity, Draco slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close to steal a kiss. She relaxed against him for a moment with a sigh and then pushed him away with a palm to his chest.

"Behave!" she admonished, but a smile played about her lips and her eyes sparkled. "We're on a mission."

"I'm just trying to keep you from getting bored."

"Merely being near you is enough to guarantee that," she said wryly. She flicked her wand and they were yanked away.

They appeared near the tumbled ruins of a house that was surprisingly reminiscent of Regulus Black's final residence. Other than the brief flash of memory, the place meant nothing to Draco. Hermione did not explain. She skirted the ruins and led the way up the road to a shabby, overgrown cemetery. One pair of graves was well-tended and Draco sobered when he read the names on the headstones. He suddenly realized the significance of the house.

Hermione knelt next to Lily Potter's grave as though paying her respects. The others watched silently. After a long moment, she got to her feet and looked at Draco with an ashen expression.

"I think I know where Rowena Ravenclaw's bracelet is."


	40. Chapter 40 Draco's Fan Club

**Chapter Forty – Draco's Fan Club**

Draco was mortified. "That's low, even by the Dark Lord's standards."

"I suspected it last time we were here," Hermione said. "It looked as if the soil had been disturbed somewhat recently. I didn't want Harry to know, for obvious reasons."

"How the hell are we going to get it out of there?"

Ron was watching them both. His complexion was ashen.

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked in confusion.

Hermione looked at him gravely. "We think there is something buried in Lily Potter's grave that is important to Voldemort. Something we need to retrieve and destroy."

Neville was aghast. "But, that's… that's sick!"

Hermione nodded. "Quite his style, though. It would amuse Voldemort to defile the grave of the woman who brought his worst enemy into the world. Especially if you consider the effect it would have on Harry."

"Are you positive about this?" Draco asked. For reply, Hermione cast a spell. A glowing webwork of lines hovered over the grave and disappeared into the ground. Draco swore lightly.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Some sort of warding." Hermione passed her hand through a glowing line with no effect. "It won't be triggered by surface movement, but I bet the minute we try moving the dirt we'll be surrounded by Death Eaters. Or Voldemort himself."

"What if we approached it from a different angle?" Draco suggested. "Like we did at the Riddle house?"

Hermione looked around. "You mean dig beyond the ward lines and then angle toward the grave?"

He nodded.

"The wards likely extend all the way around the coffin. That would be a lot of digging, too. I'd rather break the spell."

"Can you?" Ron asked.

"I think so. It would be similar to the working we did with… with the Cup. Contain and dissipate."

"We can't do it now."

"Of course not. We haven't the time, for one thing. Nor are we prepared. We'll have to come back."

"When?"

"Better sooner than later, but we'll have to do so without alerting Harry, or the Order of the Phoenix. Neville can stand in for Harry. Since Luna hates to _Apparate_, she can stay behind and keep an eye on Harry. Tonight is too soon—we need to gather supplies and I need to research these wards."

"You know there will be other traps in place, as well," Draco commented. She nodded.

"We'll have to be prepared for anything."

"All right then," Draco said. "Let's concentrate on the meeting with Snape. I'm not sure I want him to know I've been making nice with Harry Potter. As you said, we have no grasp of his motives. His hatred of The Boy Who Lived has always seemed genuine."

"The four of us will hang back, out of sight. You can signal if you need us." Hermione touched the coin on her chest. Draco shook his head.

"If it is a trap, there will be Death Eaters hanging about, as well. It's too bad we didn't think to use Polyjuice Potion—you could all impersonate Muggles."

"Maybe we can, anyway. Enough to pass cursory inspection, that is. How many Death Eaters can recognize us on sight? Except for Lucius Malfoy, none of them has more than a passing acquaintance with any of us."

Ron laughed shortly. "Yeah, passing over several blasts from a wand while they were trying to kill us."

"Exactly. Now, how did you swap hair colors with Harry? That will be a good start."

Draco spent the next forty minutes playing hairdresser, and having far too much fun with it, he admitted to himself. They tried several hair colors on Hermione and finally settled on platinum blonde. She worked on straightening it while Draco moved on to Luna. Draco had to conjure a mirror for her so she could admire her new mouse-brown hair streaked with pink and violet.

"Are you sure Muggles do this to their hair?" Draco asked Hermione dubiously.

"She won't draw a second glance," Hermione assured him. Neville was given a similar treatment with hair a vibrant shade of lime green that Hermione teased into wild spikes. She transfigured his clothing into black leather with silver studs. Longbottom was mortified, but utterly unrecognizable. Luna giggled at him.

"You two look a pair," Hermione commented. She gave Luna a short black shirt overlaid with black organza and fishnet stockings. A hot pink tank top was covered with a long black jacket. Luna admired herself in the mirror from every angle.

Then it was Ron's turn. He and Draco glared at each other.

"Too bad we can't get rid of Weasley's freckles. We could shave him bald and it would still be obvious he's a Weasley."

"Maybe we can get rid of them," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Ron looked worried. "What are you going to do?" he asked nervously.

"Don't worry, it's just makeup."

She produced a small round case and proceeded to powder Weasley's face—which wasn't easy since he squirmed like an eight-year-old the entire time. Draco marveled at the bickering the two exchanged. How could Weasley even think to be romantic toward Hermione? She acted more like his mum than a girlfriend.

"It bloody stinks!" Ron protested.

"I don't care if it's Eau de Skunk, it's working. Or would be if you'd hold still."

"How long can this take? You've been over my nose six times."

"Well, you have a lot of freckles there!"

"If I wrinkle my nose, my whole face will crack."

"Then don't wrinkle your nose, dimwit."

"Don't call me dimwit. Gaaah! You got some in my mouth! It tastes awful!"

"If you would shut up, you wouldn't get it in your mouth. Now hold still!"

"How do you girls wear this crap? It's horrid."

Hermione sighed in exasperation, but finally finished and looked at her handiwork with a grin at Draco.

"Not bad," he admitted and tapped Weasley on the head with his wand. A bit harder than warranted, perhaps. Weasley glared. His hair turned pitch black. "For some reason, he still looks like a Weasel."

Hermione conjured some gel and slicked Ron's hair straight back. Then she turned his clothing into a black Muggle suit and tie. She giggled at the outcome.

"That's better. You look like a young funeral home director. Or a used car salesman."

Draco and Ron looked at each other in incomprehension, but neither asked. It was enough that Ron was no longer identifiable. Neither was Hermione. With her hair straightened, it now hung far below her waist. She made a stunning blonde. She had changed her clothing into a short, pale green dress with a high waist and delicate pink flowers. White sandals covered her feet. She topped the outfit with a white jacket to hold her wand. She wouldn't have looked out of place at one of his mother's garden parties, except that no witch would ever be caught dead in a skirt that short.

"What about you, Malfoy?" Ron asked. Draco shook his head.

"Why bother? I don't want Snape scrutinizing every face looking for me. If it's to be a trap, I'd rather be the bait than the catch."

"How are we going to _Apparate_ to Stonehenge in broad daylight? Popping out of nowhere is certain to give the Muggles a fright and send the Ministry seeking our blood."

"It doesn't help that the damned place is on a bloody flat, barren plain."

"There are a few trees, though. Do you recall? A rather long walk, granted, but we have time."

Draco sighed. "No help for it. Weasley, have you been there?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I think I remember the trees, too. I can get there."

"Longbottom?"

"It's been too long. I barely recall the stones."

"I'll take you through, then. Hermione can take the flibbertigibbet. Shall we?"

They appeared at various places along a copse of trees. Draco and Neville could see Weasley, who was several meters away disentangling himself from a bush. Draco could not spot Hermione, but he could hear Luna laughing nearby. They followed the sound and found the two girls climbing out of a muddy bog. Luna had left her shoes behind in the mud and was stomping happily in the muck.

"This feels great!" she called, waving excitedly at Draco. "You should try it! Some mud has healing properties, you know."

Hermione's expression was the exact opposite of Luna's and her lips were set in a white line.

"The only 'properties' in this mud are sheep droppings!" Hermione growled. She staggered out of the mire and cleaned off her legs and shoes with a sharp snap of her wand.

"If you've finished wallowing, Luna, can we please get moving?" she snapped. Luna reluctantly joined her on dry land and Hermione levitated Luna's missing black boots from the bog and _Scourgified_ them. She did the same to Luna's feet and the Ravenclaw girl threw herself on the ground to replace the boots, heedless of the twigs and debris that attached to her skirt.

Ron had caught up to them.

"We should probably not arrive together," Hermione suggested. "Draco, you go first. But, be careful, of course. We seem to be right near the road, so just follow it. Ron and I will go next. Neville, you and Luna wait a few minutes and then trail us."

Draco started off and quickly reached the road. He'd only been walking a couple of minutes when a small car screeched to a halt next to him. Four Muggle girls were packed into the tiny car. One of them leaned out the window.

"Hey, gorgeous! You want a lift?" The other three girls whooped and laughed loudly. Draco smiled. A moment later, he was wedged in the back seat between two voluptuous girls. The driver kept winking at him in the rear-view and the girl in the passenger seat had turned herself about to face him.

"So, going to Stonehenge, then?" she asked. He nodded.

The one on his left had a kinky mass of red hair and she wore something resembling a black bra covered in torn red netting that revealed more cleavage than it concealed. Her eyes were lined in black and her lips were bright red. She leaned against him and crooned in his ear.

"What you doin' all alone, peach?"

The one on his right was blonde and similarly dressed, but in glaring violet and orange.

"We're on holiday," she said. "Girl's day out."

"We're definitely out!" the brunette passenger cried and hooted.

"What's your name?" the driver asked.

"Devlin Whitehorn," Draco replied quickly.

"Nice name, love," the redhead said and gave his knee a squeeze. Draco decided to have a long talk with his father one day. He'd been raised with some serious misconceptions about Muggles. If he'd known Muggle girls behaved this way, he'd have abandoned the wizarding world every holiday.

Thus accompanied by four adoring fans, Draco made his way to the Stonehenge monoliths. He walked to the very center of the circle and looked carefully around for Snape, although it was still early. The two girls from the back seat were still clinging to his arms.

The redhead looked around in disappointment.

"This is it, then? A bunch o' rocks?"

"A bunch o' rocks! It's history! Where's your sense o' pride? Our ancestors had to haul these bloomin' things 'ere and stack 'em up like this!"

"What for?"

"No one knows."

The redhead shook her curly locks. "Can we leave? Let's take Devlin 'ere back to Salisbury and party."

"How 'bout it, Devlin?" the driver asked.

"Sorry, girls. I'm meeting a man here."

The redhead released him. "A _man_? Don't tell me you're a woofter!"

"Say it ain't so!" the blonde cried. "That would be a crushin' blow to girls everywhere!"

"You don't go for the gents, do you, Dev?" the brunette asked.

"No," Draco assured them. "Definitely not."

The four girls swarmed on him in glee and it was at that particular moment that Hermione arrived in the center of the circle. Draco was somewhat surprised the four Muggle girls did not erupt into puffs of smoke from the heat of her glare. She marched straight over to Draco.

"Hello, darling," he said before she could speak. "I got here a bit ahead of schedule."

"Apparently," she said through clenched teeth. "Who are your little friends?"

The girls began to back off. The redhead was indignant.

"Devlin, you fibber! She looks awfully… _female_, for a man."

"You'd better keep an eye on this one, dearie," the blonde warned Hermione. "'E's a tricky one."

"I've noticed," Hermione said glacially.

"Easy come, easy go," the driver quipped. "Let's go, girls. Nice meeting you, Devlin, you naughty boy."

They skirted Hermione and pranced, giggling, down the path. Draco grinned innocently.

"They gave me a ride."

"I'll bet."

"They seem to like me."

"No doubt."

"Should you be seen standing here with me?"

"I'm certain I was barely noticeable among your giggling admirers."

"Which have departed."

"Try not to attract any others. I'll be over there, with Ronald. Lurking." He watched her stalk away in high dudgeon and turned his attention to the rocks as though fascinated. Every so often, he would chuckle to himself.


	41. Chapter 41 Grave News

**Chapter Forty One – Grave News**

Draco was bored out of his mind by the time Snape arrived. The Muggle girl had been right—Stonehenge or not, they were _rocks_. They were only interesting for about twelve minutes.

Snape walked out from among the stones and Draco assumed he had boldly _Apparated_ somewhere close by. He was surprised to see Snape in Muggle clothing. Snape wore black trousers similar to Draco's, and a high-necked black shirt with long sleeves. The outfit looked far too warm for the balmy summer day, but Snape was probably immune to discomfort.

Snape's eyes flitted from person to person as he approached Draco, alert for anything. There was no recognition in his eyes when his gaze passed over Neville and Luna. Hermione and Ron were out of sight.

"You're looking well, Draco," Snape said with something that vaguely resembled a smile.

"I'm doing all right," Draco replied. "Better than I was trapped in my room at Malfoy Manor, at any rate." He followed Snape's lead by scanning the area, alert for Death Eaters or other potential danger.

"Your mother asked me to bring you a message."

"How is she?" Draco asked quickly. Snape grimaced.

"As well as can be expected."

"And Father?"

"The same." Snape jerked his head sharply. "There are too many Muggles here. Walk with me."

Snape turned and Draco flicked a glance at Hermione, barely visible now in the shadow of one of the stones. He shrugged and followed Snape. As soon as they were out of sight of onlookers, Snape turned, gripped Draco's shoulder, and _Disapparated_ them.

Draco staggered a bit when they arrived at their new destination. After a moment of disorientation, he realized they were on a pier. He scowled at Snape.

"You could have bloody warned me before taking me through like that," he snapped. Snape shrugged.

"You should know by now you can trust me, Draco. This place is away from prying eyes and Muggles."

A sound made them start and they realized a man was walking down the pier toward them. He carried a fishing pole and tackle box.

"You were saying?" Draco said blandly.

The man approached and Draco saw he was a rather old, somewhat pudgy gentleman in a flannel shirt.

"Hey, lads! Where did ye come from? Thought I 'ad the place all to meself today, I did. You 'ere fer the fishin'?" As he approached, he seemed to notice they carried no gear at all. His brows beetled down. "Now, ye ain't them damn environmental types, are ye?"

When the man was three meters away, Snape pulled out his wand and downed him with a single blast of green light. He looked around carefully to make certain the man had been alone. There were no others signs of life along the barren coast.

"Damnable Mudbloods," Snape growled. "They multiply like rabbits. You cannot go anywhere without running into a nest of them. Too bad Voldemort was lying about exterminating them." He laughed sharply. "Or not lying, exactly. He just plans to exterminate the rest of us, as well. The bloody half-blood freak."

Draco was taken aback. He'd never heard Snape spew such pureblood venom before, and decided it would be a bad idea to mention Snape's own half-blood ancestry. He tried to ignore the fallen Muggle, as Snape did when he walked casually farther down the pier toward the water.

"The Dark Lord is keeping a close eye on your parents, especially in light of the curious disappearances of four Death Eaters, recently. You wouldn't know anything about that, I suppose?"

Snape's black eyes glinted with merriment. Draco was well aware of Snape's ability as a Legilimens, but he didn't get the impression Snape was using it.

"Which four?" Draco asked casually.

"It doesn't matter. I can't stay long. I've left Goyle and Avery in a stupor and I must get back in time to modify their memories. I've come to warn you, although there is a limit to what I am allowed to say. You know he's placed his version of the _Fidelius_ _Curse_ upon us."

"Where are my parents?"

"That, of course, is one of those closely guarded secrets. I can tell you, however, that he plans to attack the Ministry of Magic."

"When? And why is that knowledge not protected by the _Charm_?"

"Within the next few days. The Dark Lord did not bother to silence us because too many Death Eaters are aware of the plot. What _they_ do not know is that the attack is merely a diversion. The Dark Lord does not care if it succeeds or not."

"A diversion for what?"

The Galleon on his chest suddenly grew hot. Draco wondered if it would be possible to send a message without touching the coin. Then again, he was touching it with his skin…

_I'm fine_, he sent to Hermione. _I'll be right back._

"It's difficult to answer direct questions, Draco," Snape said and Malfoy had to backtrack his thoughts for a moment. The Ministry attack… a diversion. "Instead, perhaps you should ask yourself what the Dark Lord wants."

The words brought back Draco's conversation with his father. Voldemort wanted the Ministry of Magic crushed. And Hogwarts.

"If it helps, the Dark Lord knows where Harry Potter is," Snape said.

The breath caught in Draco's throat for a moment, but he did not let the surprise register on his face. "Everyone knows where Harry Potter is. In London."

"Not anymore. He fled his little hiding place for somewhere that I am not, at the moment, at liberty to mention."

Draco swallowed hard, suddenly knowing where Voldemort was planning to go.

"How will he get in?"

Snape laughed without humor. "I knew you would figure it out. You have always been a sharp lad. You remind me so much of me, when I was your age. Except you have an idealistic streak that I never quite managed. In that way, you are far more like my foolish—" Snape's jaw clamped shut so fast it nearly clicked.

"Like who?"

"Never mind. As you were asking, the Dark Lord will not be walking up to the front gates. Nor will he use a Vanishing Cabinet. Did you happen to use the information I sent with you?"

Draco nodded. "I found the item at the Riddle House. It has been destroyed."

For the first time, Snape stared at him with something akin to astonishment.

"Are you certain?"

"Positive. It was Hufflepuff's Cup."

"How did you destroy it?" Snape's voice was sharp with excitement.

"I'm certain you don't have the time for me to go into that explanation," Draco said mildly. Added to the fact that Draco had no intention of telling him.

Snape sighed. "True. I shall let your parents know that you are well. Your mother asked me to tell you she hopes you will visit your relatives in France. To be safe, of course."

"Of course. You will not mention to her that I have no intention of doing that. I don't suppose you know the whereabouts of any other Horcruxes?"

Snape shook his head. "No. The Dark Lord was certain to have something of Gryffindor's. Probably Ravenclaw's, as well. But Dumbledore and I were never able to locate them." Snape snorted. "I sometimes miss the nagging old bastard. He had his uses."

"Why did you kill him?" Draco asked suddenly. Snape's cheerful demeanor evaporated.

"Another tale we do not have the time for. Suffice it to say, it was necessary. I wish you well, Draco. Know that I will protect your mother with my life."

He started to walk away, but Draco halted him. "Professor Snape?" he asked, although the title was no longer relevant. "Why are you helping us?"

Snape walked to a black bundle that lay at the end of the pier. He rifled through it and pulled out a Death Eater cape. "Someday, it may all come clear, Draco. I have given up or betrayed every single thing I ever held dear. To one purpose. But, your mother was always my favorite…" Snape paused with a pained look. "She was always kind to me, even though she doesn't know—will never know—the truth."

"What truth?" Draco asked shortly, hoping he would not hear a declaration of love for his mother. It was one thing to suspect it, but to hear it aloud…

Snape laughed; a sound that was curiously full of real humor. Draco wasn't sure he'd ever heard genuine amusement in Snape's voice before. The former Potions Master had changed a lot since the incident on the Tower. Snape slung the robes about his shoulders and fastened them at his throat. He grinned at Malfoy.

"Draco, Draco, there are so many lies now it would take days to uncover them, should I choose to disclose all my varied sins."

Snape flung the hood up to cover his lanky hair.

"I wish you success. By the way, should you choose to return to Malfoy Manor, beware the parlour and the basement. Those were the most likely areas for the Ministry to search, so they were laid with several traps before we departed. The rest of the house should be safe, but for prowling Ministry underlings and members of the Order of the Phoenix."

Snape lifted a hand in farewall and _Disapparated_. Draco looked around and then walked back to the fallen Muggle. He knelt and touched the man's neck. The fisherman was dead. Draco stood up quickly and shuddered in distaste. He was not completely certain he wanted Snape on his side. What had he said? He had given up or betrayed every single thing he had ever cared about. Why would Draco and his family warrant any better treatment? If Draco ever stood in the way of Snape's purpose—whatever that was—he had little doubt he would end up similar to the Muggle stiffening at his feet.

Draco sent himself back to Stonehenge.

Draco appeared at the same spot from which he and Snape had departed. Luckily, the only person to see him _Apparate_ was Hermione, who had obviously been worriedly waiting for him.

She flung herself on him and pressed her cheek against his.

"Thank God! I was afraid it was a trap and we'd never see you again!"

"I'm certain some of you would be more than pleased at that eventuality."

"Only Ron," Hermione admitted. "Where did you go?"

"A deserted pier," Draco said, knowing he would never dare to mention the dead Muggle to Hermione. "He had a message from my Mother. She wants me to flee to France and hide."

"That was it?"

"No. Voldemort is planning an attack on the Ministry of Magic. He knows Harry Potter is at Hogwarts. And he intends to attack there, as well."

Hermione's face drained of all color, making her look like a pale waif under the blonde hair.

"He told you all of that?"

"Not in so many words. He couldn't tell me about Hogwarts, but he gave me enough hints to figure it out. Which means they have to be somewhere close to the school, if a _Fidelius Charm_ prevented him from speaking of it. The forest, perhaps? That would explain why Wormtail and Greyback were meeting there."

"That's terrifying, to think of him so close. How did he know Harry was there?"

Draco frowned.

"I didn't think to ask."

"Are you certain they know he's at Hogwarts? Maybe they think he's at the Headquarters of the Order? Snape would know where that was, even if he couldn't speak of it."

Draco thought about it for a moment. "He did say that Harry was at a place he was not allowed to mention. I simply assumed he meant Hogwarts." Draco shook his head. "But then he said that the Dark Lord would not be entering by the front gate or a Vanishing Cabinet. Why would he say that?"

Ron approached, looking far too somber in black.

"Finally got back from your secret rendezvous, eh?" he snapped at Draco.

"Yes, Weasel. We'd better get back to Hogwarts so that I can set my wicked plans into motion."

"Stop it, you two," Hermione growled. She gestured to Neville and Luna. They waited for a lull in the Muggle tourists before Disapparating. Hermione took Luna through, but the others took themselves back.

Draco felt somewhat vulnerable waiting outside the front gates of Hogwarts, but this time there would be no Wormtail lurking in the bushes beside the road.

"Not much point in sneaking out if we have to beg admittance each time we return," Draco muttered.

"Maybe we won't have to," Hermione said and tapped the locks with her wand. After a moment, they clicked open and the chains drew back. She smiled at him with an air of smug superiority.

"I paid close attention last time Tonks opened them," she said pertly. They quickly filed inside and the locks clicked behind them.

"We should probably tell the Order about Snape's warning," Hermione said.

"Of course. Hopefully they will start searching for the Dark Lord… as long as they can do it without drawing attention."

They paused partway back to restore their appearances to normal. Weasley gratefully scrubbed the powder from his face.

"You should consider leaving that on," Draco suggested.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron snarled. Draco whacked him on the head to return his hair to orange-red.

"Ouch! Do you hae to do that so bloody hard?"

"Yes, Weasel, I do. I really do."

Ron scowled and stalked into the building. Luna and Neville looked at Hermione, who sighed.

"Draco and I will go talk to Lupin and Harry. We'll meet later to discuss retrieval of… of the bracelet. We can't let Harry get suspicious. I hate keeping this from him, but I think it's best, under the circumstances."

"I'll go see if there are any books on warding in the library," Luna offered, tossing her head. She had insisted on keeping the pink and purple streaks in her hair, although she had allowed Draco to return the rest of it to normal.

"I'll help you," Neville decided. "I feel pretty useless."

"If you two can find a way to break the wards, you'll be far from useless," Hermione said. Neville nodded and they went inside.

The Great Hall was crowded once more, and in a surprising uproar.

"What did we do now?" Draco asked.

"I don't think it was us, this time," Hermione said worriedly. The others were clustered around Molly Weasley, who was seated in a chair sobbing hysterically. Harry noticed them and hurried over.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked.

"Rufus Scrimgeour was just here. They haven't seen Percy Weasley since yesterday evening. He stayed late at the Ministry to finish something and no one has seen him since. They checked with his Slytherin girlfriend, but she hasn't seen him in two days."

Hermione looked at Draco with a sick expression.

"My God, Voldemort has him."

"Don't even suggest that!" Harry hissed. "Mrs. Weasley is already hysterical, blaming herself for not making more of an effort to reconcile with the pompous git. Besides, we don't know for certain—"

"Actually, I think we do," Hermione whispered. "Snape mentioned to Draco that Voldemort knows your whereabouts, and hinted that you were here—at Hogwarts. _Percy_ knows you're here."

"He knows I'm here, too," Draco said quietly.

Hermione clutched his hand.

"They can't suspect you're working with us. I don't think Percy would volunteer that information."

"Why the hell wouldn't he? He despises me like all the other Weasleys… well, except one, apparently, but that's beside the point. He would hardly spill the news about Potter willingly. They either tortured the information out of him or used _Veritaserum_. Or a combination of the two, knowing the Dark Lord."

"Well, now we've got even more incentive to find Voldemort. We've got to save Draco's parents and Percy."

"If there's anything left to save," Draco said grimly.

"Don't even think it," she said and squeezed his hand tightly. "Snape would have told you if your parents were in danger, right?"

Draco sighed and nodded.

"I think so, if Mother was in trouble, at any rate. He said he'd die to save her, but I wouldn't exactly trust his word, even about that. If her life stood in the way of his grand purpose, he'd sacrifice her with the rest of us. I have little doubt of that."

"We'll have to hope his purpose coincides with ours, for the time being."

"What are you three whispering about over here?" Lupin asked as he and Tonks approached. Tonks looked at them curiously and tugged at her green hair.

"Wotcher, cousin," she said and grinned at Draco.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he asked sharply. "Who are you?"

Tonks giggled. "Blimey, you don't remember me? I'm not surprised, really. You were only four when I was banned from your house forever for scaring you and making you cry. Your dad hated my mum, anyway. Narcissa was forced to visit at our house after that. Which she only did about once a year, for mum's birthday."

It came to Draco in a rush.

"Aunt Andromeda's daughter," he gasped. "Tonks" had been a dirty word in the Malfoy household, rarely mentioned after Andromeda had thumbed her nose at the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black and married a Muggle.

"Cracking good memory, coz," Tonks said.

"I don't remember you at all."

She laughed. "You probably blocked it. I wasn't very nice to you after you called me a half-blood scum."

Draco flushed. Lupin looked from him to Tonks.

"I'd forgotten you two were related."

"The Blacks and Malfoys have been trying to forget that, too."

"Sorry," Draco said.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're finally coming around." Her gaze flicked to his hand, still clasped in Hermione's, but Draco felt no compunction to let go.

"We have some grave news," Hermione cut in. "Best delivered in private."

They left the gathered Weasleys and went to the nearest private place—Snape's old office.


	42. Chapter 42 The Elven Council

**Chapter Forty Two – The Elven Council**

Once inside the dark office, they each lit a few lamps to dispel the perpetual gloom. Besides Snape's old chair, there were only two hardbacked wooden chairs before the desk. Lupin took Snape's seat with a sigh and commented, "I have the feeling I need to be sitting down for this."

Tonks perched on one corner of the desk and looked at some of the bizarre items Snape had left on his desk. Hermione marveled at the quantity of items Snape had left behind. When he'd left Hogwarts, he'd taken nothing but his wand. She wondered if any of his things held sentimental value. Or if Snape could even feel sentiment.

She sat down in one of the hard seats. Draco stood nearby, partially in shadow, likely uncomfortable as he usually was in the presence of others. Harry paced.

Without further delay, Hermione launched into an explanation of where they had gone—leaving out their side trip to Godric's Hollow. Lupin's lips thinned into an irritated line when he heard they had departed the school unannounced yet again, but he allowed her to finish without interruption. She felt quite guilty anyway, especially considering they planned to sneak out again at the earliest opportunity.

Draco willingly repeated his conversation with Snape and they postulated a bit on Snape's motives, without managing a satisfying explanation.

"Maybe Voldemort killed someone he cared about," Tonks suggested.

"I find it difficult to believe he could care enough about anyone to seek revenge for over a decade," Lupin said.

"He cares about Draco."

"He _seems_ to care about him," Harry snapped. "With Snape, nothing can be taken at face value."

His pacing was beginning to annoy Hermione. "Harry, will you please sit down?" she asked. He stopped walking, but did not sit.

"Well, the first order of business is to send a warning to the Ministry. They will likely not heed it, particularly since we have only a vague caution, but at least we can keep our own Ministry officials on the alert. Unfortunately, there are only a few of them now."

"Jack and I can trade off shifts. Kingsley and Arthur, too."

"Try to spread as many rumors as you can to keep the sharper officials on their toes. If word gets out, some of them will pay attention. The rest of us will start combing the forest and try to locate some sign of Voldemort. I'll recruit Hagrid."

"And Grawp," Harry interjected. Lupin cleared his throat.

"And Grawp."

"Moody will leap at the chance for some action. I think we should start in the clearing where we found Draco—maybe we can figure out why he was taken there."

There was a long silence.

"Why does it disturb me that you three are not leaping to volunteer for one duty or another?" Lupin asked.

Hermione flushed.

"I'm rather tired," Draco said dryly.

"Would you _let_ me help?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Probably not, but I think it is more likely that you are all up to something. Someone needs to invent a charm that will set off an alarm the instant any of you get too close to the outer wall."

"We'd just figure out how to disarm it," Draco replied.

Lupin stood up. "Yes, you probably would."

He and Tonks went out.

Draco was looking at the books lining the shelves.

"Remarkably similar to the ones Snape had at home," he commented. "Less deadly, however. At least he didn't willingly allow some of the nastier volumes to fall into student hands."

"Wouldn't you have been first in line?" Harry asked.

"As long as it would have given me a weapon to use against you? Most likely." Draco grinned. Harry shook his head wryly and tugged at his hair.

"Do you think there is anything useful in here?" Hermione asked.

"Like what?"

"Like a list entitled 'Places I Already Seached for Horcruxes,'" Draco suggested. Harry shot a mild _Stinging Hex_ at him and Malfoy yelped and rubbed his arm. "Watch it, Potter."

"Don't you think he would have told you if he had such a thing?"

"Not necessarily. He's still a git. I think his need to destroy the Horcruxes wars with his need to make it difficult for me."

"He's probably just jealous of your blinding good looks," Harry commented and then made a gagging face.

"Potter's trying to hide the fact that he's in love with me," Draco said conspiratorially to Hermione. "You should see him grope me when we're alone."  
A second _Stinging Hex_ followed the first and Malfoy said, "Damn you!" But he grinned when he shot one at Harry, who leaped aside.

"Will you two stop acting like children?" Hermione snapped primly. "I'm sure the Order went through this place a dozen times, trying to find a clue as to why Snape killed Dumbledore."

"Do you think he'd write that down?" Draco asked ingeniously. Hermione stood up and glared at him.

"You don't want _me_ to give you a _Stinging Hex_," she warned.

"Maybe I do," he said caressingly. She sighed in exasperation.

Draco was suddenly serious. "Is there any chance Voldemort has accessed the school? What if he found a weakness in the defenses?"

"We already checked," Harry said absently.

"You checked the entire school?"

"We sort of cheated," Hermione admitted, realizing Draco did not know about the Marauder's Map. "We should probably look again, Harry. Just to be safe."

"All right. We should also go say something to Mrs. Weasley, first." Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy. "_Don't say it_."

"Don't say what?"

"Whatever horrible, sarcastic comment you were about to make."

Draco clapped a hand to his chest. "You wound me, Potter."

"Let's go," Hermione said. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

As they began to enter the Great Hall, Fred and George Weasley stormed out.

"Hermione, just who we were looking for," George said.

"Ron says you found Malfoy by some scrying method," Fred continued.

"We need to use it to find Percy."

"He's a bloody git."

"But he's still our brother."

"Do you have something that belongs to him?" Hermione asked.

"Of course."

"I think we have something that belongs to everyone," Fred mentioned.

"You never know when you might need it."

"Even me?" she asked indignantly.

"Well, not you," said George.

"We'd never nick anything of yours, Hermione."

"Definitely not."

She looked at them suspiciously, but it was impossible to be cross with them, even at their most maddening.

"The scrying?" Fred prodded. Hermione nodded and led them down the hall to Firenze. Harry and Draco followed.

The centaur seemed glad to see them—he likely got very bored hanging out by himself in a castle—all except Draco, who stayed back as though Firenze had some sort of contagious disease. The centaur still had the bowl and water was quickly fetched. When it came time to drop in the object, Hermione gasped.

"You took his Prefect's badge?" she snapped.

"He foolishly left it out in the open," Fred protested.

"We were just keeping it safe for him."

"Hanging on that bare wall, in that flimsy frame, beneath that delicate glass…"

"Why, anything could have happened to it!"

"Peace, children," Firenze ordered calmly.

Fred and George managed to not only stop chattering, but they were remarkably quiet long enough for the bowl to ice over and an image to appear.

"He's alive!" George cried. Percy was lying on the ground, looking dead but for a hand he had flung up as if to ward off something. A guttering candle lay on the ground nearby. His clothing was torn and dirty and his spectacles were missing. A nasty bruise darkened one cheek and his chin seemed to be marred with dried blood.

"Doesn't look too good," Fred commented.

"Where the hell is he?"

"Looks like a cave."

"Well, that narrows it down to about a hundred million places."

"Hermione? Any ideas?"

Firenze pulled the image back as far as possible, but only darkness was visible beyond the rocky area surrounding Percy. She shook her head.

"It could be anywhere."

They all sat in frustration for awhile, and then Firenze dispelled the image. Fred and George launched into a discussion with Firenze about creating portable scrying pools and Hermione walked back to join Draco.

"Do you think we should scry for your parents?"

His silver eyes went far away for a moment.

"I'd have to go home. I don't have anything that belongs to them."

"Lupin would kill us if we left again this soon."

"I don't think your centaur likes me, anyway."

"I think it's the other way around," she said dryly.

"Well, it _is_ a—"

She clapped a hand over his lips and hissed, "Stop that!"

He grabbed her hand and held it in place while he touched a tongue to her fingertips. She shivered deliciously. He released her when Harry walked over.

"Let's go get that map," he said. "I should double-check the Pensieve memories, to make sure I didn't miss anything. We have to find those Horcruxes."

They were on the third floor landing when a sharp pop halted them. Dobby stood on the step above Harry. The house-elf goggled at Draco for a moment before narrowing his eyes in an angry glare. Hermione realized she hadn't seen Dobby since the rescue of Neville Longbottom.

"Dobby must speak to Harry Potter. In private," he murmured loudly, shooting suspicious glances at Malfoy.

"Um…" Harry said.

"We'll wait for you in the Trophy Room," Hermione said with a gesture at the nearby door. She grabbed Draco's hand and towed him into the room. Sconces sprang to light when they entered, dimly illuminating the glass cases that lined the walls.

"You just wanted to bring me in here to snog, didn't you?" Draco asked hopefully.

Hermione's pulse jumped at the thought. She grinned and looked at him sidelong, but sobered when her attention was snagged by the prominent case at the end of the hall. They walked forward to look at it soberly.

"The Tri-Wizard Cup," she murmured.

The plaque beneath the cup had a memorial inscription for Cedric Diggory.

"Is it still a Portkey?" Draco asked.

"No. Dumbledore fixed it." She sighed. "I hate looking at it. So many horrible memories. Let's go next door."

A connecting door led to the Armor Gallery, filled with sets of armor, weapons, shields, and other accoutrements of war. She didn't think she'd ever been in the room, before.

"Remind me to hurry here if the Death Eaters invade the school. Magic is fine, but a fine length of steel is a nice backup." Draco admired a thin rapier with an intricate, lace-like guard.

Hermione looked at a case containing a wicked looking morning star that bristled with sharp metal spikes.

"I can't imagine hitting someone with this," she said. Draco joined her.

"I don't know, I think Snake-Face would look better with three-inch spikes imbedded in the side of his head."

She chuckled. "Good point." She laughed again and tapped the glass. "Get it? _Point?_"

Draco groaned and grabbed her.

"That was so bad I see I shall have to shut you up."

He turned her to face him and kissed her. He pressed her against the glass case. That was a pleasant pursuit for a few minutes until she found herself drowning in sheer bliss. She broke away and ducked under his arm.

"Where are you going?" he asked when she hurried to put another glass case between them.

"I can't think when you do that," she said breathlessly.

"You don't have to think _all_ the time, you know."

She watched as he peered through the case at her. Inside, a number of empty scabbards had been propped upright to resemble a teepee. They were all beautiful—leather or wood wrapped in gold filigree, silver gilt, or enameled metal.

"I wonder where the swords are," Draco commented casually as he sidled around the case. Hermione moved when he did, keeping the case between them. She didn't trust his casual interest in the scabbards.

"Probably broken in battle," she replied.

"What does the plaque say?" he asked seriously. She bent to read it and Draco bolted. She tried to run, realizing his trick, but it was too late. He caught her and slid his arm around her waist.

"You won't escape, now," he whispered and kissed her again. She gave in thankfully and slid her hands into his hair. She would never tire of touching it. After awhile, she admitted he was right. She didn't have to think all the time.

Harry and Dobby walked down the hall to the empty Charms classroom, which reminded Harry that he needed to show Hermione and Draco the spells Fred and George had developed.

"Where have you been, Dobby?" Harry asked, somewhat guiltily realizing he hadn't even thought of the house-elf in days.

"That is what I have come to tell Harry Potter," Dobby said seriously. "Dobby caught Kreacher when he left the house of nasty-bad Malfoy wizards. Kreacher fled, but Dobby finally caught him. Dobby took Kreacher to the Elven Council."

Harry blinked at him.

"The what?"

"The Elven Council. They are not house-elves. In fact, they hold us in contempt for choosing to bond ourselves to a wizard household or family. Yet, we are bound by their laws."

Dobby was unusually serious. Harry struggled to absorb the concept of elves that were not like Dobby and the other subservient house-elves.

"Did Kreacher break a law? An elven law?"

Dobby nodded.

"He betrayed Sirius Black and broke the covenant made with the Black household by obeying Bellatrix Lestrange over you, the rightful master. However, there is some question as to the legitimacy of your claim, Harry Potter. The elves are investigating."

"_What?_ You are saying I might not be the rightful owner of Grimmauld Place?"

Harry sat down hard in Flitwick's chair. As much as he hated that house, it was his only connection to Sirius.

"Not by wizarding law!" Dobby assured him. "Only by elven law. Kreacher may be forgiven for his crimes. In the meantime, they are keeping him. Elven law is extremely slow where house-elves are concerned. They don't care about us."

Dobby sounded both sad and bitter. Harry was relieved.

"That's fine! Kreacher was more of a nuisance than a help. This way, at least he won't be assisting the enemy."

Dobby nodded. "Very good, yes, Harry Potter." The house-elf's tone hadn't changed.

"What is it?" Harry asked in trepidation.

"Dobby did not want to go to the Elven Council. Dobby did it for Harry Potter—to punish Kreacher for his betrayal."

"But?" Harry asked resignedly, knowing whenever Dobby did something to help Harry Potter, it usually ended up a cocked-up catastrophe.

"Dobby also betrayed his master. When Dobby was bound to the Malfoys. Dobby betrayed them to help Harry Potter."

Harry gaped at him. "But, you punished yourself every time you did anything against the Malfoys! You nearly beat your own brains out against my bedpost!"

Dobby scoffed. "Small pain is not elven punishment. The Council is looking into my crimes, also. Only because I am now free was I allowed to return to Harry Potter. I must go back once the matter has been decided."

"And if they find you guilty? What will happen?"

"I could be stripped of my magic. Or sentenced to a century of enslavement." Dobby shuddered. "Forest elves are horrible masters. They would make my time with the Malfoys seem like a happy holiday."

Harry couldn't fathom such a thing. "When will you know?"

Dobby shrugged. "A long while. As I said, elven justice moves slowly. I just wanted Harry Potter to know."

"Well, if there is anything I can do… just tell me."

Dobby beamed. "Thank you, Harry Potter!" His eyes welled with tears that Harry quickly staved off with a question.

"We think Voldemort might be hanging around the forest or somewhere close by Hogwarts. Do you want to do some spying for the Order?"

Dobby nodded. "Yes, of course, Harry Potter."

"Well, go talk to Lupin, then. I'm sure he'll find somewhere for you to look."

Dobby disappeared.

Harry sighed. Elven Council. Another freakish complication he didn't need.


	43. Chapter 43 Death Eaters

**Chapter Forty Three – Death Eaters**

Hermione vaguely heard Harry calling them from the Trophy Room. Draco was seated on the marble floor, leaning against the scabbard display and Hermione was in his lap, pleasantly lost in a fog of bliss.

Harry's voice grew louder as he entered the Armor Room. Hermione fought her way out of Draco's embrace with effort and stood up shakily.

"Here!" she called brightly. She took Draco's hand and pulled him to his feet, surprised to note he looked just as dazed as she felt.

Harry blinked at them when he approached. Hermione giggled at Draco's disheveled appearance.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Harry asked dryly.

Hermione shook her head, but Draco said, "Yes. Can you make yourself disappear, Potter?"

"Never mind," Hermione said. "We were just… looking at the displays. What did Dobby have to say?"

Harry frowned.

"Malfoy, have you ever heard of the Elven Council?"

Draco paused in smoothing his hair back to its normal perfection, although Hermione thought he looked delectable with it hanging over his eyes in a silver curtain…

"Elven what?" he asked.

"That's what I thought. It doesn't matter, at the moment. We were going to fetch the map, remember?"

"What map?" Draco snapped.

"You'll see. Come on. The sooner we check this, the sooner you two can get back to snogging."

Hermione blushed, but Draco laughed.

"Smartest thing you've said all week, Potter."

They were nearly to the fourth floor landing when a cry from below halted them. They stopped and peered over the railing at Ginny Weasley, who bolted up the steps, looking agitated.

Hermione felt a sinking sensation, wondering if they received bad news of Percy.

"Harry, come quickly!" Ginny yelled when she was near enough to be heard. "Susan Bones just killed the Carrows!"

"She what?"

Harry raced down the stairs two at a time, followed by Hermione and Draco.

"She tried to get Greyback, too, but he kept dodging her Avada Kedavras. Nearly blew his cell to pieces. Moody had to knock him out and move him."

The Great Hall had an atmosphere of shocked silence.

"How did it happen?" Hemione asked Fred and George, who stood nearby.

"We came in here and announced that Percy was alive," said Fred.

"Mum started going all to pieces again, knowing Percy was trapped somewhere," George continued.

"Possibly tortured."

"Susan got up and walked out."

"Hagrid came in from outside and heard the shouting."

"Susan was screaming, calling them murderers."

"By the time Hagrid tackled her, it was too late for the Carrows and Greyback was pretty singed."

"Too bad Hagrid wasn't a bit slower," Draco said dryly. No one contradicted him.

"And Wormtail?" Hermione asked.

"She doesn't know who or what he is. She let him be."

"Another pity," Draco commented. "We should have labeled his cage."

"Where is Susan?" asked Neville. He and Luna had come in to hear the tail end of the story.

"Sedated in the hospital wing," said Ginny.

"They'll have to turn her over to the Ministry, of course," said Fred.

"McGonagall went to contact them."

"I'll go sit with Susan," Neville said quietly. "After what happened to my Gran, I sort of understand how she feels."

"I'll go with you," Luna said.

Bill Weasley stood up from where he'd been sitting near his parents.

"Since most of you are here now," he said, "I have an announcement. We have decided the wedding will be held August fifteenth, and the ceremony will be outside, near the lake. You are, of course, all invited."

Fleur suddenly burst into tears and fled the Hall. Bill hurried after her. Draco looked confused.

"What? Now she doesn't want to get married?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes. Males were so dense, sometimes.

"This is supposed to be the happiest time of her life, and look what's happened. Percy kidnapped. Death Eaters everywhere. The Ministry in danger. Voldemort a complete unknown… of course she's upset."

"Maybe they should postpone the wedding," Harry suggested.

"Well, that would be admitting defeat, wouldn't it?" Hermione said forcefully. Ginny nodded.

"I'd better go talk to Ron," Harry decided. He and Ginny moved away.

Hermione looked at Draco seriously.

"We have to go tonight," she said quietly. His silver gaze sharpened. "I feel like we're running out of time."

Draco slipped out the large front door with a brief thought back to the number of times he'd crept out the same doors. Those days seemed so carefree and simple, now.

He hurried down the steps and around the side of the castle to find Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom waiting for him.

"Where's Granger?"

Ron made a sound of disgust and even in the dark, Draco could picture him rolling his eyes.

"She stopped by the library again to check on something. If she could find a way to bring the whole library along, she would."

Draco glanced at the sky. No stars were visible. Clouds had begun to roll in shortly after dusk. Longbottom yawned.

Hermione finally hurried up.

"Sorry," she said. "Let's go."

They mounted brooms—Hermione rode with Draco by unspoken agreement and he wished he had his own broom. It was back at Malfoy Manor. Even Weasley's broom was better than the substandard school broom Draco rode. Luckily, the distance was short. Once beyond the school walls, they Disapparated.

The graveyard near Godric's Hollow was creepy at night, which was most likely true of all graveyards everywhere. Rain was spitting fitfully.

"Perfect night for grave digging," Draco said cheerfully. Weasley gave him a toxic glare.

Hermione had brought a backpack filled with supplies. Salt was useless in the rain, but she had also brought sand. She poured it out into a pentagram around Lily Potter's grave. The candles were more challenging as it began to rain in earnest shortly before they lit the candles. After they went out several times, Hermione commandeered a nearby vase, broke it, and transfigured the pieces into covered holders for the candles.

Hermione had instructed Neville on his part earlier and he invoked his quarter nervously, but managed not to stutter. Ron and Draco did theirs and when the circle was complete Hermione pulled out her wand and began the complex incantation to cancel the wards.

They quickly became soaked as they waited. Draco had worn a cloak, but the hood did little to keep the rain off his face. He blew at a droplet of water that hovered on his nose.

Hermione finally finished and quickly cast another spell. She sagged in relief.

"I think it worked," she said. "No ward lines."

Draco hadn't doubted her for a moment.

"All right, let's get this dirt out of here."

"Wait! I want to disturb the site as little as possible," Hermione said. "Not just because it's the right thing to do, but I also don't want Voldemort to know we were here, if at all possible."

The four of them used their wands to cut the grassy hillock from the grave and set it gently aside to expose the soil beneath. After that, it was sheer, grueling labor to levitate out as much dirt as they could life—soil that was quickly turning to heavy mud.

Finally, the top of the coffin became visible. They barely had time to sigh in relief before the crack of _Apparition_ shocked them out of their tired stupors.

Three masked Death Eaters stood among them. There was a stunned moment of silence before they all erupted into action.

Draco threw himself sideways and leveled a blast that sent one Death Eater sprawling backward. Hermione cried out, hit by something. Draco looked at her worriedly, but she thankfully remained on her feet.

He heard Weasley shout and glanced back to see Ron dodge a green blast. Weasley shot an orange bolt at his attacker, who slipped in the mud and narrowly avoided it.

Neville was down on one knee, blasting madly with his wand like an American gunfighter shooting at a running Death Eater.

Hermione giggled and threw her arms wide before spinning in a giddy circle. Draco groaned. _Confundus_. He pointed his wand at her, intending to counter the spell, but the Death Eater he'd hit originally was up again. Draco felt a spell tug at his hood as it passed and experienced a moment of alarm, hoping his hair wasn't singed. He shot an absent curse at the man and tried to get to Hermione.

Neville's opponent suddenly turned and hit Longbottom full on with something. Neville dropped like a stone.

Another spell shot by Draco and he glared before sending his patented gale force wind at the man, who miraculously braced himself and did not fall.

"Malfoy!" the Death Eater yelled in recognition. Draco swore roundly. He had assumed the Death Eaters to be standard-issue underlings, like Crabbe, Goyle, and McNair. Now, he wasn't so sure. What if the Dark Lord had sent someone competent, like Lars or Mulciber? As if on cue, Ron went down with a yelp. Draco shot a _Full Body Bind_ at Weasley's attacker an instant before he was enveloped in pain.

Draco went down on one knee, trying to fight the blinding excrutiation. Neville's attacker had hit Draco with the _Cruciatus Curse_—the other one laughed chillingly and Malfoy felt fear begin to overwhelm his pain.

"You are alive, Draco," Mulciber yelled. "Did you desert us for this? _A girl_?"

The agony forced Draco to his knees. He put one hand in the mud and it clenched convulsively as he strove to keep from screaming. His teeth were clenched in an effort not to bite his tongue.

"Will you come back to us when she's dead?" Mulciber continued conversationally. "Let's see, shall we?"

Ron's wail of denial behind him told Draco that Weasley was alive, but wandless.

Mulciber raised his own wand and gestured at Hermione. Draco's wand was still clenched in his hand. Using every ounce of willpower, he fought the _Cruciatus Curse _and lifted his wand. It seemed to move through molasses—slowly, _too_ slowly. Green light erupted from Mulciber's wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Draco screamed through a haze of red. Mulciber was felled like a tree and Draco was suddenly free. He sagged in the mud for only a moment before scrambling to Hermione's prone form.

"You killed Mulciber?" the other Death Eater yelled in disbelief. "_Malfoy?_"

Draco paused long enough the stun the bastard—Rabastan or Antonin, he thought, and then he was cradling Hermione in his wet arms.

"Oh God, don't let her be dead," he begged, nearly overwhelmed at how much he needed it to be true. He shifted her slightly and raised his muddy hand to feel for a pulse at her throat. To his utter shock, her brown eyes blinked at him semi-lucidly.

"I fell down," she said in a stage whisper and giggled.

Draco buried her face in his chest in relief and felt a hot wetness sting his eyes for a moment.

"Mmmm, you're warm and you smell so good," Hermione purred. Her voice was muffled by his shirt. "Do I know you?"

Draco smiled gently and touched her with his wand to cancel the _Confundus Charm_. Her bemused gaze cleared instantly.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "I thought you were dead."

"She tripped," said Ron behind him. "Right when he cast—it barely missed her."

Draco swiveled his head around to look at Weasley. Ron was lying in the mud, looking as though he'd dragged himself forward with his hands.

"You okay, Weasley?"

"I can't move my legs. And my wand is gone."

Draco cancelled the _Leg Locker Curse_ on Ron while Hermione _Accioed_ his wand, which snapped into her hand from the undergrowth.

"Where's Neville?" she cried when Ron stood up and retrieved his wand. Draco helped her to her feet.

"He went down over there," he said and pointed. If the Death Eater who had hit him was Dolohov, Longbottom might not be getting up. Ron hurried over to check on Neville and Draco walked to Ron's former attacker, who was still stiff from Draco's _Full Body Bind_. Malfoy knelt and tore off the mask.

"Hello, Gerald," he said to Goyle. "Nice to see you, again."

The Death Eater's eyes registered surprise for a moment, but Draco left him to remove the mask from Titus Mulciber, whose dead eyes stared into the rain, unseeing.

"Neville's okay!" Ron called. "Hit with a _Stunner_, looks like!"

Hermione joined Draco. She gasped at Mulciber.

"My God! Did you—?"

Draco nodded and laughed humorlessly. "Looks like I really am a killer."

"I can't believe it," she murmured and Draco's jaw clenched. He'd acted on impulse, but he hadn't hesitated to use the Unforgivable Curse. Potter would never have done it. He would have used a _Stunner_ or _Disarming Charm_ or something non-lethal. Now, Hermione knew what Draco was capable of. Regardless that he'd done it for her, she would still be properly appalled. He could practically feel her shrinking away from him.

Draco turned and walked abruptly to the last Death Eater, unwilling to meet her accusatory gaze. Ripping away the mask, Draco revealed Dolohov, who was unconscious. Malfoy conjured ropes to bind him further, and then did the same to Goyle. He levitated them and bound them to nearby headstones, making sure they would be unable to view the upcoming proceedings.

Neville was up, looking rather annoyed at having been knocked out. Hermione touched Malfoy's arm.

"Draco—" she started, but he shook her off.

"Let's get this done with, before he sends reinforcements."

"How did they know we were here?" Ron asked. "I thought we broke the wards."

Hermione cast a spell into the grave to reveal another set of glowing lines.

"How could I be so stupid?" she cried. "Second wards, right above the coffin. I should have guessed!"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said shortly. "It's already been triggered, so we no longer have to worry about it." He issued terse instructions and Hermione stood at the base of the grave, ready for anything, while the others cast an opening spell. The coffin lid snapped upward with a crack and they all cast _Lumos_ spells.

Lily Potter's corpse was no prettier than any other body that had been lying in the ground for over a decade. The hair was a dull red, and looked almost too lifelike on the grayish skull.

Hermione turned away with a sob and the other two looked like they might be ill. Draco ignored them and knelt to peer closer at the body, increasing the light from his wand. Prisms of light glinted from an object on Lily's left wrist—the Ravenclaw bracelet.

"So… who volunteers to hop down there and get it?" Draco asked lightly. Both Weasley and Longbottom stepped back, horrified. Draco sighed. "That's what I thought."

Bloody squeamish Gryffindors.

"Wait, there might be a trap!" Hermione said. "Can't we just levitate the bracelet out?"

She tried several times, but it could not quite fit over the wrist bones, even though it seemed impossible that it wouldn't. Draco swore and impulsively jumped into the grave, ignoring Hermione's cry of protest.

Draco was prepared for just about anything, but he was still surprised when Lily Potter sat up and clamped a bony hand around his leg.

Hermione shrieked as Lily's corpse began to pull itself upright and the leering jaws gaped open. The Gryffindors began to pelt the body with spells while shouting madly. Draco began to shout, also, hoping to be heard over the din.

"Stop it!" he bellowed. "Inferi are immune, damn it! They're already dead!"

The jets of light either bounced off the corpse or were absorbed. Several ricocheted and nearly hit Draco. If one of the idiots _Stunned_ him, he was dead.

"STOP!" he thundered. Lily's face drew close to Draco's groin as she pulled herself upright with the painful grip below his knee. He felt the circulation in his foot going fast. He put his left hand out and kept her clicking teeth away with a tight grasp on her jaw, cringing when his fingers sank into the decomposing gore.

The nearness of his flesh seemed to excite her and she strove to turn her head and bite Draco's arm. Her strength was incredible and Draco felt his sinews strain with effort.

"Draco!" Hermione screamed. "What should we do?"

"Nothing!" he gritted loudly. He pointed his wand at the Inferius and began to chant. A _Binding_ was effective against the undead and similar horrors, but it took a bloody long time to cast.

Lily's other clawed hand reached up and snagged his waistband, dragging her long nails through the flesh of his waist. Draco winced, but his chanting did not falter. The Inferius heaved herself at him suddenly and he jerked backward to avoid the teeth that clicked where his belly had been an instant before. Draco's chant became a shout and finally a deep purple cloud began to form around the body.

The Inferius began to wail—a horrific, unworldly noise that raised the hairs on the back of Draco's neck—as it sensed its prey beginning to escape. The snapping jaws bit at the air more savagely and frantically. Then, it was still. Draco was completely drenched now. Covered in sweat on the inside and rain on the outside. He panted with exertion.

"Get off of me," he ordered. The Inferius obediently released him and he felt the blood begin to flow back into his left foot. He shook it experimentally. Lily's body scooted away from him. The eye sockets seemed to stare at him balefully.

"Now, give me the bracelet," he snapped. She reached a bony hand to the bracelet and slipped it easily off her other wrist. It dangled between them from the nearly fleshless bones of her fingers.

"Well," he said. "That was too easy. Give me something to put this in."

Hermione handed down the leather bag that had contained the sand.

Draco held it open beneath the bracelet.

"Drop it," he said. The sapphire encrusted trinket slipped into the bag and Draco tossed it up and out of the grave. If there was another curse on it, they could deal with it back at Hogwarts.

"Now, lie down like a good dead body," he commanded and the Inferius obediently, if somewhat petulantly, resumed its original position. Draco levitated himself out of the hole and slammed the lid of the coffin with a spell.

"Should we just leave her like that?" Hermione asked anxiously. He looked at her sadly.

"It's not Lily Potter. It's just a husk of flesh, animated by a dark spell. It will lie still as soon as we replace the soil."

"Can't we free it?"

"We don't have time. The Dark Lord will be wondering where his underlings are any moment, if they were sent to check the wards and return. We need to get the hell out of here. If you like, we can return later." His voice was sharper than intended.

Hermione nodded soberly and raised her chin.

"Let's cover it, then," she said and they started to lever the mud back into the grave. When that filthy job was finished, they replaced the grassy knoll. Draco looked around. The whole area was torn and muddy—it looked like… well, it looked like a battle had been fought there.

"So much for being inconspicuous," he commented.

"There's no help for it," Hermione said as she gathered the guttering and unlit candles. She tossed them into the bag with the bracelet and slung it over her shoulder. She took a moment to repair and replace the vase she had stolen from a nearby grave, something that wouldn't even have occurred to Draco. "What should we do with…?" She gestured to Mulciber.

"We'll have to take him. And the others. No sense broadcasting what we've done. If he checks for the Horcrux, he'll know we have it and the whole secret is out. I don't plan to leave him any witnesses, alive or dead."

Ron was charged with taking Gerald Goyle and Hermione grabbed Antonin Dolohov. Draco partially hefted Mulciber's body. The four conspirators and three incapacitated Death Eaters appeared back near Hogwarts' outer wall, covered in mud that the rain couldn't wash off.

Even with brooms, it would be a long, silent journey back to the castle.


	44. Chapter 44 Draco's Surprise

**Chapter Forty Four – Draco's Surprise**

They opened the front doors as quietly as possible, to find Harry and Ginny waiting for them in the Front Hall.

"All right, where the hell have you been?" Harry snapped angrily.

"Collecting Death Eaters," Draco said mildly. "Since we were running low."

Hermione maneuvered the levitated Dolohov and Goyle into the Hufflepuff dungeon. Neither moved as Malfoy had unceremoniously _Stunned_ them the moment they had started struggling in their bonds. Hermione was concerned about Draco's current state of mind—he seemed to have reverted back to his traditional icy demeanor.

They locked the Death Eaters into empty cells. Greyback watched them pass in silence.

"We brought you some new playmates, Fenrir," Draco said companionably.

"You'll pay for crossing the Dark Lord, Malfoy," Greyback muttered ominously.

Draco sneered. "Spoken like a _loyal_ Death Eater," he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I _am_ loyal!" Fenrir snarled.

"You're loyal only to your own twisted ends and everyone knows it!"

"Then it's lucky my objective coincides with the Dark Lord's, doesn't it?"

"Lucky. Too bad you're stuck in a cage instead of out there living your glorious life, eh?"

"Not for long, Malfoy. Not for long." Fenrir showed his teeth in a horrific grin.

Hermione paused at that and noticed Draco did the same. The werewolf sounded too confident. She made a note to tell Lupin about it in the morning.

They filed out of the dungeon. Hermione touched her face, which itched where the mud was starting to dry.

"Are you going to tell me where you've been?" Harry asked impatiently and Hermione giggled when she looked at the others.

"Mud wrestling?" she suggested. Ron looked worse than any of them. His arms were brown up to the elbows and much of his clothing was completely covered. Draco wore all black, but his legs had a coating of brown, as well as one arm and most of his cloak. He had mud in his hair, which had to be driving him crazy. He kept picking at it fastidiously. Hermione's hair was so caked she felt like she wore dreadlocks.

"Granger can explain," Draco said shortly. "I'm for a bath and then bed. See you tomorrow."

With that, he stalked for the stairs and disappeared.

"Good idea," said Neville, knocking a drying clod from one arm. He followed Malfoy, likely heading for the Prefect's bath. Hermione sighed and reluctantly went back outside. Harry accompanied her, trailed by Ron and Ginny.

"I'm not sure what to do with the body," she said. Mulciber's corpse lay at the base of the steps. "I suppose I should wake McGonagall."

Harry gaped. "Is he—?"

"Dead. Malfoy killed him," Ron said abruptly. He tugged a bit of mud from his hair. "He fought a _Cruciatus Curse_ to do it. I've never seen anything like it. He still would have been too late, though. If Hermione hadn't fallen, Mulciber would have killed her. I hate to think what Malfoy would have done, then."

"What do you mean?" Hermoine asked.

"It was amazing," Ron said. "I never would have believed it, but Malfoy… he wasn't even fighting. He was just trying to get to you. If Mulciber had killed you, I think Malfoy would have taken them all out without a second thought. You should have seen his face when he thought you were dead."

Hermione suddenly felt like weeping. She remembered Draco's words at the grave site. _Looks like I really am a killer._ She needed to find him… talk to him.

"So, you just felt like going out and battling some Death Eaters?" Harry asked tightly, still fishing for information.

"No, we went to get this," Hermione said and opened the leather bag to show Harry the bracelet, remembering at the last moment not to touch it.

"The Ravenclaw bracelet!" Harry breathed. "Where was it?"

"I'd rather not say. The problem is Voldemort may figure out that we have it. Since the Death Eaters showed up, we weren't able to remove it very inconspicuously."

"What's so important about a bracelet?" Ginny asked. Harry exhaled heavily.

"Just _tell_ her, Harry," Hermione snapped. "Our big secret isn't going to be a secret much longer. Besides, after we take care of this, there should only be one left."

She closed the bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"All right," Harry said. "Ginny, let's take a walk. I probably should have told you a long time ago…"

They moved off toward the lake. Hermione sighed tiredly.

"I'll go fetch McGonagall," Ron offered. "I won't tell her about the Horcrux—that should come from Harry. Cor, I can't really even tell her where we were… she'll freak."

"Just tell her we'll explain in the morning. Maybe we can think up a decent story, by then."

Ron nodded. "You'd better go find Malfoy."

She blinked at him in surprise. Ron shrugged.

"He's bitter enough without beating himself up over this scum." He nudged Mulciber's body with a toe. "Bill and Charlie told me stories about Mulciber. He helped kill my uncles. He would have killed us all and laughed about it, later. Frankly, Malfoy did us a favor."

Hermione threw her arms around Ron and impulsively kissed him on the cheek. Then, she stepped back and spat on the ground.

"Why do I always get that reaction from you?" Ron asked dryly. She laughed.

"It's not you—it's the dirt on your face."

Ron rubbed at it absently and grinned. She smiled.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Don't mention it."

Hermione turned and went inside. A bath was definitely the first order of business. A glance at her watch showed it to be nearly one in the morning. She went to her room and tucked the leather bag under her mattress. They would have to deal with the bracelet tomorrow.

A half-hour later, clean, dry, and wrapped in cozy flannel pajamas and dressing gown, she made her way down to the Slytherin common room.

Draco was already asleep, sprawled across his bed as if he'd thrown himself there. Thankfully, he wore dark silk boxers, since he hadn't even bothered to draw back the covers. She listened to his breathing for a moment and admired his lithe form stretched out over his blankets. She should probably let him sleep, but she felt it couldn't wait until tomorrow. She sat down next to him and reached out to touch his soft hair. It was still slightly damp from his bath.

His silver eyes snapped open and his wand appeared in his hand at the same instant. The wariness disappeared from his gaze when he groaned.

"Granger. Did you come to torture me?"

"No. I came to thank you for saving my life."

He blinked at her for a moment, as if trying to wake up.

"I didn't save you—your incredible Gryffindor luck did that."

She shook her head in denial. "You think Mulciber wouldn't have tried again in the next moment?"

Draco rolled over and braced his head on a cocked elbow to look at her curiously.

"I didn't have to kill him. _The Chosen One_ wouldn't have killed him," he said bitterly.

"Will you stop comparing yourself to Harry?" she snapped.

"Why? Because I'll never measure up?" he demanded sharply.

She buried her face in her hands in frustration. Why did she always seem to end up arguing with him?

"Look, I just want you to know I don't think any less of you for killing him."

"Why not?"

_Why not?_ He expected _reasons_? How could she explain how she felt? How could she admit to being glad someone like Mulciber would never be able to hurt anyone again? How could she describe her sheer elation that Draco cared enough for her to kill without hesitation? How could she tell him that waking up from a _Confundus_ to find him holding her with almost intense anxiety had been incredible? How could she possibly rationalize the knowledge that she would forgive him just about anything?

"Because I… I…" She was suddenly tongue-tied and felt her hands twist together fretfully. "I should go. I'm sorry I woke you."

She got to her feet, but his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Come here," he said with a sigh. "I never see you at a loss for words except when you're with me. Why is that?"

"Because you make me nervous," she admitted. His thumb caressed her wrist gently as she sat back down, affirming her words.

"I'm too tired to make you nervous right now," he said and let his head drop to the pillow. "I'll give it a go in the morning, all right?"

He tugged her wrist insistently and pulled her down to lay next to him. She curled next to him with an exhalation of tired surrender and slipped her arm over his waist. She lay her cheek against his chest and felt his face in her hair. He breathed deeply.

"Why do you always smell like apples?" he murmured.

She smiled softly. "Why do you always feel like heaven?" she whispered, so quietly she didn't think he heard her, but his arms tightened around her for a moment. Hermione sighed in contentment and drifted off to sleep.

A small sound woke Draco. He reached up under his pillow and grasped his wand silently. The sound came again—a faked cough.

"Malfoy? Are you awake?"

Draco groaned inwardly. It was Potter. He wondered what the hell would bring The Boy Who Annoyed down here at… whatever ludicrous time it was.

"I am now," Draco muttered.

"Is Hermione here?" Potter asked.

She most definitely was, wrapped around Draco like a cozy blanket.

"She's asleep," Malfoy said.

"I _was_ asleep," she corrected groggily. Her lips brushed Draco's bare chest as she spoke, and sent a pleasant tingling through Draco's nerve endings.

"I need to talk to you, Hermione," Harry said briskly. "I'll… uh… wait out here."

His footsteps retreated.

"Remind me to change that damned password," Draco said as Hermione raised her hand to look at her watch.

"Good idea," she said. "It's barely eight a.m.—doesn't he ever sleep?"

Hermione rolled away from Draco and lit her wand dimly. She looked around for a moment in puzzlement.

"Oh. I didn't wear shoes." She got up and padded out, barefoot. Draco pondered going back to sleep, but curiosity made him sit up and light a lamp. He tugged some clothes on and walked out to the common room, which Potter had lit up like a damned stadium. Draco blinked against the brightness.

He stopped dead at the sight of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger wrapped in an intimate embrace. Potter's arms were tight around Hermione's waist and her hands held Harry—one of them was in Potter's dark hair… In an instant, all the hatred Draco had ever felt for Harry Potter returned in a rush. Draco felt such a blinding moment of pure rage that he actually raised his wand, thinking Potter would look quite a lot better with a set of moose antlers. He opened his mouth to tell Potter to get his bloody hands off of her—

Then Hermione's gaze met Draco's, full of such sympathetic remorse that Malfoy paused.

"Ron told Harry where we were last night," she said softly. Draco felt his anger dissipate as though burst like a bubble. It was replaced by a stunning revelation. He leaned against the doorway and stared at them like an idiot, wondering when the hell he had allowed himself to fall in love with Hermione Granger.

Potter was speaking, but Draco barely heard him as he staggered forward and sank into a padded chair.

"I'll kill him for this, Hermione. I've wanted to kill him before, for my parents, for Cedric, for _Sirius_—but this?" Potter's voice rose and he began pacing.

Draco needed a drink.

"Wasn't it enough that he killed them?" Harry yelled. "Did he have to turn my mum into… into…?" Potter buried his face in his hands with a sob and Hermione hurried forward to hug him again. She crooned to him soothingly. Malfoy watched in curious detachment, thinking back.

It could have been the morning he woke up in her house and went downstairs to find she had nervously cooked enough breakfast for a dozen people. That long ago? He smiled in bemusement at the memory.

"I want that Horcrux destroyed," Potter gritted. He stepped away from Hermione and dragged an arm across his eyes. "I want it destroyed _now_."

Hermione nodded soberly.

"I'll get it," she said softly. Harry bobbed his head abruptly and went out. Hermione watched him leave with a worried expression. She looked at Draco and her eyes widened. She hurried over to press a cool hand against his forehead.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look terribly pale—have you been taking your potions?"

Draco shakily took her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles.

"I'm fine," he murmured, although he felt far from fine. She sighed, as if realizing that nagging him would be futile.

"I'd better go get the bracelet before Harry decides to blast apart the girl's dorm to find it himself."

Draco brusquely yanked her down into his lap and kissed her, enjoying the way she melted into his arms after only an instant's hesitation. His kiss was gentle at first, and then bruising as he tried to convince himself that what he felt for her was simple lust and nothing more. She gripped his face with both hands and pushed herself away forcibly.

"Seriously—I have to get the Horcrux. I've seen him like this before—he has no patience. I'll meet you in the room where we destroyed the cup… that is, if you want to do this."

"I want to do _this_," he said and kissed her again. Hermione laughed against his mouth and pushed him away.

"Later," she promised. She hopped out of his lap and danced away before he could grab her. She walked around the Slytherin couch and started out.

"Hermione?" he called huskily. She gasped and stopped as if she'd hit a wall. He grinned wickedly at her transfixed expression.

"Never mind," he said lightly.

Her eyes narrowed in perplexed uncertainty, and then she shook her head and went out. Draco leaned back and propped his arms behind his head with a heavy sigh. What the hell was he going to do if life ever returned to normal? He couldn't possibly be in love with Hermione Granger. It was unthinkable.

He pictured his father's face at the news. God, Lucius would absolutely forbid their relationship… and then Draco would be forced to tell his own father to get stuffed.

Draco clenched his hands in his hair convulsively.

Bloody hell, he was turning into a Gryffindor!

Hermione walked through the maze that exited the Slytherin common room, feeling completely baffled. Her own name kept bouncing around her skull. What had possessed Draco to call her that? He had never done it before… not once. It was always "Granger." Always. She felt hot and cold at once, remembering it, and cursed herself for letting a single word from him affect her. Damn Draco Malfoy! Would she ever figure him out?

Harry was waiting for her impatiently in the Gryffindor common room. He watched her without comment until she returned with the bag containing the Horcrux.

"So… you and Malfoy…?"

Hermione face flamed and she realized it hadn't even occurred to her what it must have looked like for Harry to have found them together. In Draco's bed.

"How did you know where I was?" she asked sheepishly.

"Ginny told me you never made it to bed… I sort of guessed."

"We were only sleeping," she said defensively.

"Okay," Harry said mildly. She glared at him.

"Where is Ginny, anyway?"

"Breakfast. She was tired of listening to me yell at Ron."

"And where's Ron?"

"Probably in the Stone room, by now. He went to fetch all the supplies. Salt, candles, and so on."

"You shouldn't have yelled at Ron. It was my idea not to tell you. With good reason, I might add."

Harry scowled. "Don't you think I should know that my own mother is now an Inferius?"

"No, I do not. All it did was upset you."

"Yeah, well, I've been upset before. I've learned to deal with it. Are you planning to get dressed, or are we going to destroy this Horcrux with you in your pajamas?"

She nearly went down in her pajamas just to irritate him, but after a stubborn moment, she returned to her room and put some clothes on.

The bracelet Horcrux went the way of the cup, with little change except an audience. Neville, Ginny, and Luna had all come down to watch. Draco kept yawning, which put a less than sober face on the ceremony. Hermione was getting tired just watching him. They were, however, careful to make no mistakes.

Harry rubbed his hands together in satisfaction when they exited the circle, leaving the black and twisted ring of sapphire-studded metal where it lay.

"Fabulous. Another Horcrux down," Draco said. "I'm going back to bed."

They all followed Malfoy back to the third floor where they were nearly run down by the frantic Weasley twins.

"There you are!" George yelled.

"We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"What's happened?" Hermione asked.

"Dad got a message regarding Percy. They want to exchange him for Fenrir Greyback!"

"What? How does Voldemort know we have Greyback?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Ministry knows. And You-Know-Who is likely to have agents there."

"Regardless, we're not turning over Fenrir. We have a plan."

The twins started back downstairs, detailing the plan as they went. When they finished, Hermione reflected with admiration that it might actually work.


	45. Chapter 45 Rescue and Escape

**Chapter Forty Five – Rescue and Escape**

The Great Hall was in an uproar again. Draco was starting to think uproar followed Weasley's around.

He sat down and bit into a golden apple while the group began to argue. The prisoner exchange was to take place in Trafalgar Square in London. All of the Weasleys wanted to go, of course.

The redheaded stick girl was immediately crossed off the list, much to her shrieking, stamping indignation. Draco vowed to get Potter a set of earplugs for his birthday. If they all lived that long.

Hermione sat down next to Draco and reached for a bunch of grapes. Her hip rested against his and their shoulders overlapped. He tried to remember if she had ever sat so close to him before. It made him slightly tense.

Draco was distracted by Ron joining the fray. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley had forbidden ickle-Ronnikins to attend, even though he was of age. The shouting grew even louder when Potter announced that he was going. Rufus Scrimgeour appeared via Floo Network and began issuing orders. The adults unanimously agreed the The Boy Who Lived would be The Boy Who Stayed at Hogwarts. Scrimgeour supported Molly and commanded Ron to stay, also, mostly to annoy Potter, Draco figured. The Minister didn't seem to like Harry much. Three enraged Gryffindors plopped themselves next to Draco and Hermione.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you, Malfoy," Scrimgeour warned Draco. "As soon as I return, we're going to have a full investigation into the deaths of Titus Mulciber and Albus Dumbledore."

"Severus Snape killed Dumbledore!" Hermione burst out, rising to Draco's defense like an angry lioness. "And Mulciber nearly killed us all! Draco acted in self-defense!"

"We will see," Scrimgeour said shortly. "Bring the werewolf."

Lupin entered, looking ashen and subdued. He had a chained Fenrir in tow. The werewolf seemed jaunty and relaxed. The room emptied quickly after that as they departed in groups for the Ministry of Magic. From there they would _Apparate_ to London.

"Why didn't you go, Hermione?" Ron asked when the place had nearly cleared out. Of Hogwarts staff, only McGonagall and Pomfrey remained. Draco assumed Hagrid was around somewhere, as he hadn't been present for the mass exodus. Perhaps Filch. And the centaur, of course.

"I think most of the Order and half the Ministry is quite enough people to rescue Percy," she said. "Besides, we have a Trinket to locate."

Ron groaned. "Back to the library?"

"You guessed it."

"We're going to seach every bloody book that has even a passing reference to Godric Gryffindor," Harry said grimly. "We've got to find that last Horcrux."

Neville entered just as they were leaving, so they dragged him along after he collected a plate of food. Luna joined them. Draco had planned to go back to bed, but he felt more awake after eating.

Draco sat across from Hermione at a long table. If she wondered why he did not sit next to her, she didn't ask. He couldn't think clearly when she was leaning on him. Like Luna was at the moment. The Ravenclaw girl was cuddled up next to Draco like a happy kitten, clinging to his left arm while she idly flipped the pages of a book with her other hand. Her head was snuggled against his shoulder.

"Why do you suppose the Dark Lord wants to exchange Weasley for Greyback?" Draco asked suddenly. Several pairs of bored eyes suddenly fixed on him. "Doesn't it seem odd?"

"He must have plans for Fenrir," Harry suggested.

"I'm sure he does. The problem is that all the Death Eaters are expendable. Frankly, I think he'd rather just kill Weasley than go through the trouble of a prisoner exchange. There has to be more to it."

Ron stood up and took over Harry's usual pacing. Since no one had any further thoughts to add to the discussion, they went back to their books. Harry and Ginny wandered to a window niche and did more romantic gazing into each other's eyes than reading. At this pace, it would take them six weeks to find any useful information.

Luna raised her head and placed a sweet kiss on Draco's jaw. He saw Hermione smile sardonically and she raised a brow at him.

"Um… Luna?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"You do know that Granger and I are… sort of… together?" he managed. Both of Hermione's brows shot up at that statement. Draco scowled. She needn't look so damned surprised.

"Oh yes," Luna said. "It's obvious you two are passionately in love."

Hermione's cheeks turned an interesting shade of red at that comment and Draco blanched.

"Then why are you kissing me?" Draco asked, soldiering on. He reached up and wiped at the lipstick smear with his thumb.

"Because you smell so good. And you're always nice to me, now. Not like before. You were horrid. But now you're sweet. And I do like kissing."

"Maybe you should try kissing someone else for awhile," Draco suggested. Luna sat up and swiveled her head around. Neville sat nearby and his face turned beet red when her eyes fixed on him.

"Maybe I should," she agreed. She slid across the bench and practically pounced on Neville before he could escape. She planted an exuberant kiss on him. Longbottom's eyes were wide as saucers and stayed that way even after she released him. Luna tsked.

"You're stiff as a board, Neville. You should learn to relax."

Hermione began to chuckle. Draco heard her even though she tried to stifle it and he grinned at her. At least Luna was never boring. The Ravenclaw girl got to her feet. Within two steps, it was obvious she was stalking Ron, who started to back away in a panic.

"Now, Luna, I'm sure Malfoy was only joking about the kissing thing," he said quickly.

"Don't be shy. I saw you kissing Lavender Brown hundreds of times."

Ron backed himself into a table and then Luna sprang. His cry of protest was muffled by her kiss. The others watched in astonishment when Luna refused to release Weasley and her arms went around his neck like a python closing in for the kill.

After a long, long moment, Weasley relaxed and his hands gradually slid around Luna's waist. Draco looked at Hermione in bemusement and she clamped both hands over her mouth to keep from laughing. Weasley and Lovegood seemed oblivious to the rest of them.

"At least she's not kissing me, anymore," Draco muttered. They tried to ignore the snogging couple and went back to their tomes, but Draco kept glancing at the pretty blush tinting Hermione's cheeks. He had to fight the urge to get up and drag her into the bookshelves for some kissing of his own.

McGonagall suddenly appeared in the doorway. Luna released Ron with a squeak of surprise. Weasley looked rather dazed.

"You all need to come with me," McGonagall said seriously. "Do not ask questions. Just hurry."

Hermione looked at Draco in concern, but she stood up and followed the Headmistress out. They all filed upstairs to McGonagall's office. When the stairwell had safely sealed behind them, she said, "Fenrir Greyback and the other Death Eaters have escaped."

"What do you mean Fenrir has escaped?" Harry demanded. "From the Order? What about Percy?"

McGonagall shook her head sharply. "Greyback was never with the Order. He was downstairs in the dungeon the entire time. Nymphadora Tonks went with the others, pretending to be Fenrir."

Hermione gasped. Draco was mystified. No wonder Lupin had looked like he was about to vomit.

"So, when you say Fenrir has now escaped…" Hermione prodded.

"Yes, from the Hufflepuff dungeon. Hagrid went to check on them and the cells had been opened."

"Wormtail?" Draco asked.

"Gone, as well."

"Who the hell let them out?" Harry bellowed. "They couldn't have escaped on their own!"

"That is less of a concern than determining where they are now," McGonagall said prudently. "You children will stay here. The others and I are searching the premises." Her gaze sharpened when she leveled it at Harry. "I mean it, Potter."

Harry nodded guilelessly and even Draco nearly believed he would stay put. Potter could really turn on the innocence when he wanted to.

The Headmistress went out. The instant she was gone, Potter's whole demeanor changed.

"I'm going to get the Marauder's Map. I can't believe I forgot to check it!" he said.

"I'll go with you," Ginny said.

"No! It's too dangerous! I—"

"Don't give me that crap, Harry!" the stick girl shrieked. "Now, we can stand here and argue all day or we can just go get the damned thing!"

Potter yanked at his hair in frustration. _One. Two. Three. Four_. Draco shook his head sadly. Harry was going to be bald before he was twenty if he stayed with Ginny Weasley.

"Fine! You lot stay here. We'll be right back."

Hermione was looking at the Pensieve memories. Draco lounged in a chair. Neville stood next to Fawkes and began to pet the phoenix. Draco wondered when the perch had been reinstalled. Luna maneuvered Ron into the window seat and they went back to their passionate snogging. Dumbledore's portrait was empty. The dead Headmaster was probably off having tea with one of the other portraits somewhere. His gaze flitted to the Sorting Hat. Wretched, ugly thing. At least it had been smart enough to put Draco in Slytherin before he even had to put the filthy thing on his head…

"Granger?" Draco was looking at Godric Gryffindor's sword in puzzlement. She turned her brown eyes on him. He gestured at the sword. "Where's the scabbard?"

Hermione looked at the bare sword and then gasped. Without a word, she turned and bolted for the stairs. Draco watched her disappear in amazement.

"Not again," Ron muttered, as her flight had surprised him and Luna out of their ardent clinch.

"Should I go after her?" Draco asked.

"She won't tell you anything, anyway. I doubt Greyback will show up in the library, which is most likely where she's off to. Better to wait for Harry. Then we can track her down."

Hermione wasn't heading for the library. She raced down to the fourth floor, alert for both teachers and escaped Death Eaters. Inside the Armor Gallery, she halted, panting, before the scabbard display where she and Draco had passionately embraced. She blushed when she remembered her last attempt to read the plaque, when Draco had grabbed her… She shook of the memory with a sigh. Malfoy could fluster her when he wasn't even nearby.

She bent down to read the inscription.

_Scabbards of Famous Swords. Gifford Ollerton's sword, Fodio, was twisted into a knot by the giant Hoot-uk shortly after he killed Ollerton…_ Hermione skipped that. _Glenmore Peakes… sea serpents…_ Her eyes picked out the words she sought. _Godric Gryffindor… sword resides in the Headmaster's Office, but the scabbard is a thing of beauty, studded with finest rubies and…_

Hermione shattered the case with a spell and reached in to take up the ruby-encrusted scabbard. She shook her head at the simplicity of it. Godric Gryffindor had left only two relics. The hat and the sword. They had all forgotten the sheath for the sword. The final Horcrux. It would have been so simple for Tom Riddle to access, here in the Armor Gallery, collecting dust.

She brushed a hand over the hard leather and gold edging. It really was beautiful. Too bad it would soon be a twisted mass of metal, leather and jewels. She hurried out.

Harry burst into the room, followed by Ginny. He was clutching a piece of parchment and a bundle of cloth.

"Snape is here!" Potter yelled. The tone of his voice suggested it was Draco's fault.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked calmly. Potter threw the parchment down on McGonagall's desk and spread it out.

"Look!"

It was a map of the school, with tiny names moving upon it. Draco watched the little names in astonishment.

"Where did you get this? You bastard, no wonder it was so easy for you to sneak out all the time. Invisibility cloak _and_ this? Bloody hell, it's hardly fair." Draco's eyes narrowed as he thought back to the number of times Potter could have used the map… Now that he thought about it, Potter had completely squandered such a valuable item. He could have done some serious damage to Draco, sneaking into the Slytherin common room, or…

"Forget that right now. Look!" Potter stabbed a finger at the map. Severus Snape was labeled and with him were Peter Pettigrew, Fenrir Greyback, and Gerald Goyle.

"Snape let them out?" Draco was perplexed. "But, he's been helping us."

"Looks like he switched sides again," Harry snapped. "Is anyone surprised?"

Draco was, but Potter seemed a bit too agitated for rational conversation at the moment.

"Where are they?" Malfoy was having a hard time getting his bearings on the map. He twisted his head to look at it.

"Heading for the Chamber of Secrets. They're in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Why go to the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, but we're going to stop them. Where's Hermione?"

"We were going to ask you that," Ron said. "Look on the map."

A quick search of the library showed it to be empty, but they spotted Hermione leaving the Armor Gallery and heading back up the stairs. Draco let out a quick breath of relief to see no other names near her.

"Ron, Malfoy, come with me. We're going after Snape. Ginny, Luna, Neville, stay here and wait for Hermione. Tell her where we went."

"What?" Ginny cried. "No! We are coming with you!"

"GINNY, WILL YOU STOP ARGUING, FOR ONCE?" Harry bellowed. She folded her arms and glared at him. Draco figured Potter should save his breath—and his hair—and just hex the little monster.

"We'll wait for Hermione," Ginny gritted. "And then we're coming after you."

"Fine," Harry spat. "Let's go!"

Harry ran down the stairs. Weasley and Malfoy followed. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was on the other side of the castle, so they would be taking the opposite steps from Hermoine. Draco hoped she made it back to McGonagall's office without incident. Then he remembered the coin around his neck.

It was difficult to use while jogging. He clenched his fist around it and sent a thought to Hermione.

_You okay?_

_Fine. I have the scabbard. It's a Horcrux, I think._

Draco sucked in a breath. Ron looked at him curiously, but Potter continued to pelt at a breakneck speed down the hall. Gryffindors—always in a hurry to rush to their deaths. The sooner they were in danger, the happier they were.

_Snape let the Death Eaters out. We're going to find them._

_What? Where are they? I'm coming with you!_

Draco blinked at the similarity to Ginny Weasley's words. Granger would never turn into a shrieking shrew like the redheaded stick girl, would she? He shook off the thought with a grin. He could just shut her up by kissing her, if that ever happened.

_No. You should probably destroy that scabbard. Ginny, Luna, and Longbottom are back in McGonagall's office. They can help._

There was a short pause, during which Harry led them down the stairs in a suicidal Gryffindor fashion. Draco paused on a landing to read her response.

_Be careful._

Draco grinned smugly. No nagging at all. She really was Little Miss Perfect.


	46. Chapter 46 Bellatrix Lestrange

**Chapter Forty Six – Bellatrix Lestrange**

When Hermione returned to McGonagall's office, Ginny practically leaped down her throat.

"We have to hurry!" Ginny cried and tugged on her arm. "Harry and—"

"I know where they went," Hermione said calmly and resisted being dragged. "We have something to do before we can follow them."

Ginny gaped at her in confusion. "But… it's Snape!"

"Draco won't let Harry charge headlong into battle. Besides, we still don't know whose side Snape is on."

"We know whose side Greyback is on!" Ginny cried, close to tears. "Frankly, your confidence in Malfoy is appalling—"

Hermione spied the Marauders' Map on the desk and hurried over to look at it. A quick glance showed Harry, Draco, and Ron nearing Moaning Myrtle's lavatory. Hermione scanned away from them to check out the route to the room where they had destroyed the other Horcruxes. They would have to use the room again because it had already been purified.

"Oh no," Hermione murmured. Bellatrix Lestrange was on the stairs heading for the third floor. The other three crowded around the map. Neville paled.

"It looks like she's alone," Hermione said.

"Good," replied Ginny flatly.

Moaning Myrtle was not moaning at the moment. A large hole gaped where one of the sinks used to be. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, no doubt. At least it wasn't part of a toilet, Draco thought, trying to dredge up something positive about the idea. What had Slytherin been thinking?

"My, my!" Murtle cried when she spotted them. "My toilet is such a busy place, today! So many comings and goings."

"Who has been coming and going, Myrtle?" Draco asked. She zipped across the room in a flash of white and sidled up to Draco, partly disappearing into his arm.

"Oh, it's you!" she crooned. "I haven't seen you since your bath last night."

Draco flushed a bit. Myrtle never seemed to miss one of Draco's baths when he was at Hogwarts.

"Did you recognize them, Myrtle?" he asked, hoping to forestall any commentary regarding his bathing habits.

"Oh yes. Nasty Mr. Filch has been in and out, in and out all day. He's very rude! And that wicked professor who saved your life the day _he_," she jerked an accusing finger at Harry, "tried to kill you!" She half-sobbed and then looked coyly at Draco. "Although I was sort of hoping if you died that you would stay here with me."

She giggled and Draco reflected that spending a lifetime in a toilet with Myrtle or being slow roasted over the coals of hell would be quite the toss up.

"Filch?" Potter snapped. "What was _he_ doing down here?"

Myrtle ignored him. Apparently, she was still upset with Harry for nearly killing Malfoy during the _Sectumsempra_ incident.

"Was anyone with him?" Draco asked.

"That nasty teacher. Filch went down this morning alone and came back with that fellow."

"Snape," Draco supplied.

"That's the one." Myrtle giggled. "Snape went out and came back with the other four."

"Dolohov, Goyle, Greyback, and Wormtail."

"If you say so. I didn't recognize any of them."

"I wonder where Filch went," Ron said.

"Fenrir probably ate him," Draco replied. Harry grimaced.

"I wouldn't even wish that on Filch. Do you think he was _Imperiused_?"

"Who cares?" Draco said. "Shouldn't we be getting after them?" He began to think Potter and Weasley were stalling. Harry sighed deeply.

"He's right. Let's go."

Ron shuddered. "I hate it down there."

Harry walked to the opening and stared into the huge pipe.

"I wonder how they opened it. Who speaks Parseltongue besides me and Voldemort?" It was a chilling question to which they had no answer.

"See you down below," Harry said and stepped into the pipe.

"You've got to be kidding," Draco said as Harry disappeared into the distinctly slimy entrance. Ron gave him a commiserating look and followed Potter after a jaunty salute. Draco sighed deeply and stepped in after Weasley vanished. It was one of the most unpleasant experiences of Draco's life—sliding along a wet, slime-covered pipe at increasing speed until he was shot out the end to land atop Ron Weasley. Malfoy rolled away immediately and got to his feet. He was coated in slippery grime. It was a hundred times worse than the mud he'd been covered in earlier.

Draco instantly cast a _Scourgify_ on himself. He hated doing it because it stung quite nastily, but it was better than being filthy.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, must you always look like you stepped out of a magazine?" Potter snapped as Draco smoothed down his clean hair with a contented sigh. He scowled at Potter, whose hair was finally lying flat, now that it was plastered with goo. Draco vindictively cracked a cleaning spell at him.

"Ow!" Potter cried and Malfoy smiled wickedly. At least The Chosen One was clean, even if he didn't appreciate it. Draco looked speculatively at Ron, who backed away so quickly he tripped over a rock and sat down hard.

"I'd rather be dirty!" he yelled.

Malfoy laughed and Potter said, "Don't say it, Malfoy. Let's just go." Then he paused and shook out the cloth in his hand. He handed it to Draco. "Put this on."

"Your invisibility cloak? Why me?"

"We can't all wear it. We're too tall for even two of us to fit. Anyone waiting for us will expect Ron and I. But you? Let's keep that a secret as long as possible."

It seemed to take forever to navigate the dark tunnel. A door set with entwined serpents stood open before them and a strange, greenish glow guided them onward. Harry's steps had slowed until he seemed to be forcing himself forward.

"This is where you fought the basilisk, eh?" Draco murmured. Potter nodded. Malfoy conceded that Potter was braver than he'd thought. This place was creepy. For a twelve-year old boy, it had to have been absolutely terrifying, especially knowing a deadly serpentine monster waited at the end of it.

They entered the chamber and Harry raised his wand. He cast a _Lumos_ bright enough to illuminate anything hiding in the room.

"Wouldn't it have been better to have sneaked in?" Ron squeaked.

"They knew we were here," Harry said flatly. The light revealed three people: Peter Pettigrew, Fenrir Greyback, and Severus Snape.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood before the shattered scabbard display. Her fists were clenched.

"Looking for this?" Hermione called sweetly. Bellatrix spun and Hermione dangled the scabbard from her left hand temptingly.

"_Accio_ scabbard!" Bella yelled without preamble. The leather case snapped out of Hermione's hand, but the leather strap had been tightly wrapped around her wrist. The scabbard hovered for a moment, straining to reach Bellatrix.

Hermione tsked. "Oh no, it's not going to be that easy," she commented and shot a _Full Body Bind_ at Lestrange, who stepped lightly aside. Ginny and Luna joined the fray and several bolts of light headed for Bellatrix. A large shield jerked from the wall to float before Bella and the spells bounced off harmlessly. Hermione _Transfigured_ the shield into a small hand mirror. Bellatrix threw it down and it shattered on the floor.

"Seven years bad luck, Bella!" Hermione called.

"The Dark Lord will walk on your dead carcasses!" Bellatrix screamed and sent a green spell racing for Ginny, who avoided it by throwing herself to the floor. Hermione retaliated, but Bellatrix ran behind a large display of horse armor. The spell clipped her black hair as she fled. Luna cowered behind a halberd display and shot random spells at Bellatrix. Neville had disappeared.

"Harry will stop your precious Dark Lord!" Ginny cried angrily as she climbed to her feet. Bellatrix laughed and poked her head out to send a spell at Hermione, who reflected it back. It recoiled off the horse armor with an empty clang.

"_Harry Potter?_" Bellatrix spat. "That foolish child? His days are numbered. He'll not live to see his next birthday."

The comment seemed to enrage Ginny, who shot spell after spell toward Bellatrix in a flurry. The room rang with the reverberations of the armor. Luna joined her, happily sending who-knew-what spells winging at Bella. Hermione hoped none of them bounced off and hit her, but she took advantage of Lestrange being momentarily pinned down to hurry forward, hoping to get behind Bellatrix. Lestrange spotted her at the last moment and shot a wild spell toward Hermione, who held up the scabbard in reflex. The green spell enveloped the sheath and Hermione felt a stinging backlash. Bella cried out in alarm. To the relief of both of them, the _Crucio_ had no effect on the Horcrux.

"Don't damage the Dark Lord's little toy, Bella!" Hermoine taunted and aimed a hex that Bellatrix deflected—barely. Damn, she was fast. Ginny and Luna had not relented with their barrage of spells and Bellatrix had a cornered look on her face. Hermione was afraid Lestrange was about to do something crazy and braced herself for anything—anything, that is, except for the blue light that pelted Bellatrix from behind and then enveloped her in a huge, clear bubble.

Enraged, the black-haired woman cast a spell, which bounced around inside the bubble and finally hit her on the posterior. She screamed in rage—or pain—but none of them could hear her.

"Lucky she didn't cast _Avada Kedavra_," Neville commented. Hermione grinned at him in surprise. He had obviously run down the hall to the Trophy Room and entered by the connecting door.

"Brilliant! It's soundproof, too!" Ginny said and giggled.

"I've never seen a spell like that," Hermione commented. "Where did you learn it, Neville?"

"Fred and George," Ginny answered for him. Bellatrix had tentatively tried other spells with the same result. She was now jumping up and down furiously and banging her wand and fists against the bubble walls. "She might want to stop that. She'll run out of air faster if she keeps that up."

Hermione gasped. "You mean it's airtight, also?"

"Yeah. She'll die if we don't let her out," Ginny said mildly. Neville's face hardened and Hermione remembered Bellatrix was one that had tortured his parents into insanity. She couldn't really blame him if he wanted to leave Bella in there. Neville sighed.

"We'd better let her out," he said.

"How do we do that without her killing us?" Ginny demanded indignantly.

"We could levitate it up to the ceiling and then release it," Luna suggested. They all look at the ceiling some six meters above.

"That might kill her," Hermione commented.

"What a pity," Ginny said dryly. Hermione sighed. Time was ticking away and they still had to destroy the Horcrux. They quickly made a plan and Luna levitated Bellatrix's bubble into the air. The Death Eater held the sides of the sphere in alarm and screamed at them soundlessly. It was beautifully coordinated, Hermione had to admit. Neville released the spell, Ginny cast _Petrificus Totalus_ the instant Bellatrix began to fall, and Hermone gently lowered the frozen Death Eater to the ground. Her eyes glared at them in purest rage when Hermione plucked the wand from Bella's petrified hand.

"Better luck next time," Luna said brightly.

"There won't be a next time," Ginny gritted. She and Neville conjured so many ropes and tied them tightly around Bella she looked like a brown mummy. Hermione quickly cast a _Patronus_ message to let McGonagall know what was happening, considering not a single one of them had remained in her office as ordered.

"We'd better hurry and destroy this thing," she said.

"Nice of you to join us, Potter. Weasley." Fenrir's grin was hideous.

Snape shook his head. "No backup? I see you're reckless as ever, Potter. I never expect you to learn, but sometimes you still manage to disappoint me."

"Damn, I really hate to disappoint _you_, don't I?" Potter said with a sneer. Snape returned the expression and his eyes flashed. Wormtail and Greyback started forward. Draco, invisible, began to sidle around behind the pillars. It worried him that Dolohov and Goyle were missing. Where had they gone? Another tunnel? Hiding behind the pillars somewhere?

"Harry Potter, eh?" Greyback snarled. "Be a nice treat to sink my teeth into your tender flesh."

"Down, Fenrir," Snape said sharply. "Plenty of time for that, later. Potter can entertain himself with some other playmates while we're gone."

Snape cast a spell and the area surrounding the Death Eaters was suddenly filled with clouds of black smoke. Draco ran forward quickly, expecting them to make a run for it—but to where? He heard coughing and followed the sound, plunging into the cloud. He wished he had his Hand of Glory—it would have been useful in this black fog. He kept a handful of the cloak over his face to filter the smoke.

Draco hurried a bit too fast and actually ran into someone.

"That you Wormtail?" Fenrir growled. "Watch where you're going, you stupid git!" Draco backed up cautiously, afraid the werewolf would recognize his scent. Thankfully, the smoke seemed to be masking it.

"What are you talking about?" Peter's voice sounded somewhat farther away.

"Will you two shut up and get inside?" Snape hissed. "Potter won't be detained for long. I'm sure the Dark Lord will want to prepare for his imminent arrival."

Draco's heart sank at the confirmation—Lord Voldemort was here. He followed the sound of footsteps as quietly as possible and heard the unmistakable grating of stone on stone. A doorway. The Death Eaters had been heading for the back wall, so the passage was likely beneath the statue of Salazar Slytherin. The black mist was already beginning to dissipate.

Ron Weasley began to yell, though Malfoy could not make out any words. He heard Potter shout, also. Draco fought his way out of the haze, coughing despite the cloth over his mouth. When he could see again, he stopped in surprise. A dozen dementors were swirling through the pillars of the room. Weasley stood behind Potter, yelling madly and waving his wand like an idiot. A silver stag burst out of Potter's wand and routed a number of dementors, who shredded like cheesecloth and tried to flee. A bolder one approached Weasley from behind. Ron wheeled in terror.

"_Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!_" Ron shrieked. Silver flashes spurted from the end of his wand and fizzled. Potter spun and cast another _Patronus_ that charged the dementor, but those Harry had initially routed had nowhere to go—they reformed quickly in the shadows near the ceiling and swept downward en masse. Draco swore. There was no help for it. He shrugged the invisibility cloak back over his shoulders and raced forward. Draco's _Patronus_ sprang from his wand and scattered the dementors menacing Potter. Draco halted at Harry's side—Potter's emerald eyes were wide and frantic.

"There are too many!" Harry shouted. Weasley finally managed to cast a _Patronus_ and the ratlike dog flew from his wand and routed a lone dementor. Others began to reform.

"Keep shredding them—don't let them regroup!" Draco cried and cast his _Patronus_ once more. "And keep them off me!"

He steadied himself and raised his wand to cast a _Binding_. It would be difficult with so many. Luckily, Weasley's success seemed to have steadied him and Ron managed to keep casting. He and Potter kept the creatures from completely coalescing. Draco's voice rose to a scream. The dementors swirled in a spinning, dark cloud near the ceiling, as if trying to escape. Malfoy fought to maintain control.

At last it was finished. Draco grabbed Potter's wand to halt the next _Patronus_.

"Wait," he gasped, panting. His throat was raw. The fleeing dementors solidified and gathered, but they did not try to descend. They floated menacingly—an evil cloud above their heads.

"What did you do?" Potter gasped in amazement.

"A _Binding_," Draco said tiredly. "It's how the Ministry—and the Dark Lord—can control them. It's damned hard with so many. Fucking Snape is a master at the Dark Arts. I'm sure it was child's play for him, damn him to hell."

Weasley suddenly laughed weakly. Potter looked at him curiously.

"Nice _Patronus_, Malfoy."

Draco scowled. "I'd rather not discuss it."

Potter grinned at him. "A _unicorn_? Who would have guessed?"

"Shut it, Potter."

"I mean, the very symbol of purity and innocence. It boggles the mind."

"Are we going after Snape, or not?" Draco snapped. That, at least, forced Potter back to reality, although Weasley was still chuckling like a loon.

"Where did they go?" Harry asked.

Draco pointed. "We need to find the door."

With one last apprehensive look at the dementors hovering near the ceiling, Potter hurried toward Slytherin's statue.

"A unicorn," Draco heard Weasley whisper. Draco felt like yanking at his hair. Now he knew why Potter did it so often.


	47. Chapter 47 The Second Chamber

**Chapter Forty Seven – The Second Chamber**

Hermione cast the circle as quickly as possible. She stood in the east position again and Neville took Harry's place. Luna was at the southern point and Ginny stood in for Draco in the west. Hermione suddenly missed him terribly, but she reflected that Ginny Weasley was a fine stand-in for him. They were much alike in temperament. Even now Ginny was tapping her foot with impatience. Hermione smiled, knowing what Draco would say about that observation.

She lifted her wand and began.

It seemed to take them forever to find the portal. Weasley, of all people, stumbled over it. Literally. He tripped on the hem of the cloak Draco wore and put his hands out on the wall to break his fall.

"Damn it, Weasley, can you get any clumsier?" Draco grumbled.

"The cloak is _invisible_, Malfoy, you bloody—" Ron began, but his words were cut off by a grating sound that drew their attention. A huge crack had appeared on Slytherin's boot. It opened wider and Harry grabbed it to throw it wider. It revealed a dark, cramped passage.

Potter took a step forward, but Draco halted him with a hand on his shoulder. Harry's green eyes flashed.

"This is my fight, Malfoy. I'll go first."

Draco rolled his eyes. "As usual, there are a number of things wrong with that observation, Potter, but I'm not trying to save you from yourself at the moment."

Harry cocked a brow at him and Draco smiled.

"I think it's only fair to send the Dark Lord's friends back to him, don't you think?"

With that, he flicked his wand and uttered a command. The churning cloud of dementors broke ranks, jetted downward, and flew into the passage with a rush of air, a burst of cold, and the whisper of fluttering cloth. Weasley jumped back with a yelp as the dark mass raced by.

Harry sighed and then grinned. "Malfoy, I hate to admit this, but sometimes I'm really glad you're pure evil."

Draco laughed.

"Glad you finally appreciate me, Potter. Let's go—the dementors won't occupy them for long."

Harry plunged into the passage in typical Gryffindor abandon and Weasley followed. Draco made certain he was fully concealed under the cloak and trailed after them.

The tunnel was only a few dozen meters long and opened into yet another chamber, this one completely circular. The three of them stopped short for a moment to observe the chaos. Several Death Eaters were shouting and casting various spells at the attacking dementors. Draco smiled in pure pleasure at the sight.

Directly in front of them, Lars cast a _Patronus_—a crocodile?—and shredded a dementor. Behind him, Crabbe was yelling and trying hard to cast at another. Beside him, Goyle managed another _Patronus_—a baboon, was that any surprise?—but it was weak and merely caused the dark creature to retreat for a moment.

Draco's eyes scanned the rest of the room. Seated on the floor next to Crabbe was Tonks—looking strange and terrified. Her hair was mouse brown. Bound as she was, she had no defense against the dementors. Draco leaped forward.

Behind her, Fenrir Greyback seemed to be casting a _Binding_.

In the center of the room, in what looked to be a pentagram carved into the floor, sat Voldemort on a chair Draco recognized as the one from the parlour at Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord looked bored. Next to the chair, Wormtail cowered with his hands over his head. On the other side of the chair, in a small iron cage, was Dobby. Behind Pettigrew stood Snape. The former Potions master effortlessly cast a strange, jagged purple spell at a menacing dementor and the creature vaporized. Draco wished he knew half the spells in Snape's arsenal.

Beyond Snape, Draco's father stood near the wall, casting his own web of defense. The final Death Eater present was Rodolphus Lestrange. Draco wondered where the others were. Where was Dolohov? And Narcissa?

There was no time for reflection. Draco hurried invisibly past Crabbe and Goyle and knelt next to Tonks.

"Wotcher, cousin," he breathed in her ear. With a quick spell, he severed her ropes as she gasped. "Sorry I don't have a wand to give you."

"That's all right," she murmured. "I feel better already."

Greyback spun suddenly, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

"Malfoy!" the werewolf said. Draco backed away as silently as possible, cursing the damned werewolf's heightened senses. Greyback followed, clawed hands outstretched. As Draco sidled away from the werewolf, he caught a glimpse of Harry. What the hell was Potter doing?

Harry watched the scene for only a moment before taking a retreating step.

"We've got to get out of here—wait for Hermione and the others," Harry said quietly. "There are too many of them. They'll cut us to ribbons."

Ron did not need to be told twice. He slipped back into the passage.

"Malfoy?" Harry hissed. There was no reply. "_Malfoy?_ Damn it—Draco?"

Harry nearly pulled his hair. Where the devil had the Slytherin gone? Harry turned to go and found himself unable to move.

"Harry Potter. Come and join our little party," Voldemort called. Harry fought the compulsion with a sinking feeling, but found his feet carrying him forward into the room. His mind screamed for him to resist, but his body refused to obey.

"I had planned to bring the festivities up to you," Voldemort continued, "But as usual, your Gryffindor impulsiveness has put a kink in my plans." Voldemort shook his head. He still lounged casually in the chair with his wand pointed at Harry. Wormtail hovered nearby, looking terrified. Harry vaguely noticed that the dementors were being brought under control.

"You've been quite a thorn in my side, Potter," Voldemort went on. Harry began to sweat with the effort of trying to raise his wand. He thought it moved fractionally.

"Wormtail, do go fetch Potter's wand before he hurts himself."

Pettigrew scampered forward and snatched the wand from Harry's hand. He felt almost physical pain from the loss.

"Now, Mr. Potter, you may kneel before me. You see, I am the new master here. I have the Ministry and shortly I will have Hogwarts."

"No," Harry managed. Voldemort scowled and sat up.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Kneel."

Harry's legs buckled, but a part of him seemed to detach from the rest of his mind. _No_, it whispered. Harry swayed, but remained upright.

"_Kneel!_" Voldemort screamed, rising to his feet and brandishing his wand like a sword. Harry felt his knees slam into the stone floor. He shook with the effort to resist, struggling to rise. Confident once more, Voldemort settled back into the chair, although his previous casual attitude was gone.

"I am curious, Potter, how you managed to command the dementors. By all accounts, you are not the best student." His snakelike eyes flicked to Snape for a moment.

"I know how," Fenrir growled. "Draco Malfoy. He's here—I can smell him." The werewolf was stalking a path through the room.

_Get out, Malfoy_, Harry willed. Greyback suddenly launched himself forward and his hand clawed at thin air. There was an odd shimmer as the invisibility cloak slipped off to reveal Draco, who immediately cast a spell that sent Fenrir flying backward. When the werewolf landed several feet away, he did not rise.

Malfoy did not pause, but whirled and sent a killing spell at Voldemort, who did not bother to deflect it—Lars did it for him. The Death Eater cast a shield charm and Draco's bolt ricocheted off to blast a chunk of rock from the wall.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Voldemort snapped and Draco's wand was snatched from his hand to land in Voldemort's. Draco raised his chin, tossing his platinum hair defiantly.

"Lucius. I'm afraid your offspring has been very naughty."

"Indeed," Lucius commented. Harry marveled at the bored tone of his voice. Was it possible that Lucius did not even care about his own son?

"Don't you think it's time you punished him? It's a father's job, after all, to discipline their children, is it not?"

Harry felt sick. Voldemort's voice was heavy with amusement and tinged with excitement, as thought it were an entertaining game. The huge snake slithered out from under the chair, where it had apparently been coiled the entire time. It hissed.

"You are absolutely right, my lord," Lucius said. He strode forward and raised his wand. Father and son looked at each other for a long moment—so very alike, pale and haughty.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Lucius snapped and a green light shot forward and slammed into Draco, who instantly collapsed and lay still.

Harry felt himself screaming in horrified denial. For a moment, he thought he'd managed to break the curse and scream aloud, but it was another's cry of pure pain that echoed in the room. Narcissa had entered by a passage at the rear of the chamber just in time to witness her husband murder their only child.

She flew forward with a shriek of rage to launch herself at Lucius. Her fists hammered into his chest, past all his efforts to deflect her. Her hair was a silver cloud as she pounded at him.

"_You bastard! You BASTARD! How could you?"_ she sobbed. Harry's heart twisted with pain. His eyes slid to Draco's unmoving body. He never would have imagined the crushing sense of loss he felt to know he'd never hear that snide voice again, or see those flawless features twist with wry humor…

Narcissa collapsed into Lucius's arms and the elder Malfoy buried his face in her hair as he held her tightly. Harry felt such rage toward Lucius Malfoy he thought he would burst from it. He clenched his fists and concealed his surprise when his hands responded. Could he fight the _Imperius Curse_? He had once before…

"Oh my, that was entertaining. Thank you, Lucius. Narcissa, it's for the best. Your traitor son was consorting with Mudbloods and their whelp. Potter, you seem upset." Voldemort tsked as if sympathetic. "Was young Malfoy your _friend_?"

_Yes, you bastard_, Harry thought furiously. _Yes, he was_.

"I suppose I should put you out of your misery then, eh Potter? Wormtail, kill him."

Peter's head shot up in surprise and then a stricken expression crossed his face. He hesitated.

"Don't make me tell you twice, Peter."

Wormtail crept forward and then slowly knelt before Harry. His features were twisted as he reached out his silver hand. Harry felt the cold metal close around his throat. He looked into Wormtail's watery eyes steadily, pleading.

"Forgive me, Harry," Peter whispered in a shaking voice. The hand began to tighten. Pettigrew drew a shuddering breath. "Oh, God, you look so much like James." Tears filled the eyes of the man who had betrayed Harry's parents to their deaths. "Forgive me, James, forgive me." Harry found it difficult to breathe as the metal hand continued to tighten. He struggled with all his might to move and felt his hands rise with ludicrous slowness toward his neck—far too slowly. Pettigrew sobbed and the tears flowed down his cheeks. "James. James, I loved you like a brother. I'm so sorry." Black spots appeared before Harry's eyes and he fought desperately for breath, but the air was not forthcoming. His oxygen-starved brain howled for him to do something—he couldn't let it end like this!

"I'm so sorry," Wormtail cried. The hand trembled on Harry's neck and then suddenly released.

Cool, sweet, welcome air flooded Harry's lungs and he drew in a gasping breath. He blinked in astonishment and would have fallen if the compulsion had not kept him upright. Wormtail climbed to his feet and stepped away.

"I… I can't, my lord," Peter said in a whining, begging voice. "Potter saved my life—he kept Sirius and Remus from killing me. I owe him a life debt."

"Pity," Voldemort said in a voice like a crypt. He flicked his wand. Wormtail's hand suddenly sprang up and closed around his own throat. Peter shrieked in surprised horror until the sound was choked off. Peter's other hand tugged convulsively at the metal appendage, trying to tear it away, but it continued to squeeze mercilessly. The Animagus tried to transform in a panic. His features melted and became even more ratlike. Harry watched in utter horror, panting through his bruised throat. The partial change made no difference. Pettigrew flopped to the ground, thrashing violently, half-man and half-rat. His back arched hideously and his heels drummed on the ground—and then he lay still.

Voldemort chuckled in the silence. Even the Death Eaters seemed stunned by the pitiless killing.

"Poor Wormtail. He never knew the hand was a failsafe device. I always suspected he would turn on me, in the end." Voldemort suddenly pounded a fist on the carved arm of the chair. "I am surrounded by traitors! Who will be next? You, Lars?" The brutal-faced Death Eater shook his head in terror and backed away.

"No, my lord!"

"Crabbe? Dolohov?" He turned his glare on the man that had escorted Narcissa Malfoy into the room. Antonin Dolohov held up his hands in fear.

"I am loyal to the death, my lord!"

Voldemort swung around to stare at Snape.

"Severus?"

Snape met his gaze coldly and said nothing. The lack of response seemed to calm Voldemort, who relaxed a bit and chuckled. "No… not you. Not the one who rid me of that pestilential Dumbledore." He sat back and steepled his fingers. The twisted wand jutted from the center of his hands like a bleached bone. "Perhaps it is time you rid me of Potter, as well."

_Time to move, Harry_, said the detached voice in Harry's mind. _Move now_.

Hermione raced for Myrtle's bathroom with the others. She was shocked to run into Susan Bones on the way.

"Where are you going?" Susan asked.

"Should you be… out of the hospital ward?" Hermione asked uncertainly. Susan glared at her.

"Probably not, since I'm such a dangerous criminal. I'm frankly surprised I wasn't confined to a cell with the Death Eaters."

"They've escaped," Neville said quietly. Susan's eyes flashed.

"Escaped! That explains why Pomfrey hoofed it out of there in a flutter. Damn it! They should have let me kill them all!"

"You might still have your chance," Ginny said dryly. "They've fled with Snape into the Chamber of Secrets. We're going after them."

A smiled curved Susan's lips and she raised her wand.

"Why are we standing here?"

Hermione brushed past her and they hurried to the entrance of the Chamber. Myrtle floated near the hole. She glared at them.

"No visitors for months and then everyone shows up in one day," she huffed. "I suppose you're going down, too?"

Hermione didn't bother to respond; she merely hurried to the entrance and stepped inside. The ride was more horrible than even Ron had described. She spat slime from her mouth after landing with a hard thump at the bottom.

"Ew, that's so disgusting!" she cried, shaking her hand to dislodge a clinging bit of something horrid.

"Hermione!" She looked up to see Ron running toward her. "We've got to hurry! They've got Harry! Voldemort's here!"

The others emerged from the pipe one by one and clustered around Ron, who turned and raced back the way he'd come. They all followed. They entered a huge chamber with large pillars that Hermione recognized from Harry's descriptions. She paused for a moment, astonished that Salazar Slytherin had managed to construct something so massive in total secrecy. Ron hadn't slowed, so she hurried to catch up with him.

Hermione suddenly screamed as a massive wave of agony bored into her—the source was the Galleon around her neck. She fell to the ground and barely caught herself with her hands. The pain disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

Ron was on his knees next to her. She gripped his arms in panic.

"It's Draco—something terrible has happened!" She threw herself to her feet and fled toward the doorway that gaped at the end of the room.


	48. Chapter 48 Avada Kedavra

**Chapter Forty Eight – _Avada Kedavra_**

Draco was aware of pain and nothing more. He'd never felt such excruciating agony in his life. He tried not to breathe because the very air hurt his lungs. Movement was out of the question. He tried to force his mind past the torment and find a rational thought. Was he dead and finally paying the ultimate price for his actions? Burning in hell? It certainly felt like it.

That lovely idea pulled him slightly back to reality. What had happened? It came back to him with a crushing weight that nearly drowned the physical pain. This was an anguish that was purely emotional. Lucius had killed him! Draco could hardly wrap his tortured mind around the idea. He knew without question that his father loved him—would die for him. That knowledge brought him even closer to coherent thought. He became aware of an annoying buzzing that slowly sorted itself into words—voices.

Voldemort? Unless Potter had finally sent the Dark Lord to a much-overdue demise and he now resided in hell with Draco… then he wasn't dead. Draco focused on the voice. Voldemort was ranting at Wormtail. The pain began to recede, thankfully. Draco slit his eyes open, but the light burned into his skull with a new brand of torment and he quickly gave up that idea. He would lie here for a moment and think, he decided.

Why hadn't the _Avada Kedavra_ killed him?

That thought occupied him completely and the pain faded even more. He sent his mind back to everything he knew about Unforgivable Curses. His father… What had his father said? They had talked about it once, long ago…

"The _Killing Curse_ is only as effective as the will of the caster," Lucius said.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. He had spent the day reading up on Unforgivable Curses in the library, mainly because Theo Nott had irritated Draco by nearly knocking him off his broom during an impromptu Quidditch game. Draco felt it prudent to learn the _Cruciatus Curse_ and prevent that ever happening again. When Lucius arrived home, Draco had asked if he had ever used the _Killing Curse_. His father bypassed the question with a thoughtful look. Lucius sat heavily in his favorite chair and stared into the fire. He began to reminisce.

"When I was a boy, my parents once went on holiday without me. They sent me to my uncle's farm in Scotland for the summer. My uncle—the man was a right bastard. I was quite surprised when he gave me a puppy on the day I arrived. I was horrified at first—what did I want with a pet? But the bloody little thing followed me around day after day. It had these floppy, uneven ears…"

Lucius grimaced. Draco was amazed at the story. He could not picture his father with any sort of pet, not even as a child.

"I grew to love that damned dog, although I knew my parents would never let me keep it at home. I assumed it would stay at the farm where I could visit it from time to time." He laughed harshly. "I should have known better. On the day I was to leave, my uncle informed me that they had no intention of keeping the dog and it would starve to death unless I killed it. My father concurred. It was a test, you see."

Lucius's face was impassive, but his voice had an unusual timbre.

"So, I cast _Avada Kedavra_ on my dog."

Draco waited, sensing that wasn't the end of the story.

"The thing is… it didn't die." Lucius shook his head. "My uncle simply thought I cast the spell wrong. He corrected my 'mistake' himself, of course. But I've thought about it often since then. I know I cast it correctly. I simply did not want to kill the dog, so the spell was ineffective. You see, Draco, you have to _want_ to kill. You have to want it, or it won't work."

_It won't work._

Lucius had known. God, Draco _hoped_ his father had known the curse wouldn't kill him. If not—if Draco was that delusional about his own family, he would have to change his name and move in with Potter. Oh God. Potter. Draco wondered if Harry was still alive and forced his eyes again.

Wormtail was whimpering and… what? Choking Harry to death? Draco shut his eyes again and swiftly pondered his options. He needed to get his wand, get up, and save Potter. In that order. He only wished he could move. Draco tried to stretch his fingers and had to grit his teeth when the tiny motion sent pins and needles of pain through his hand. The _Avada Kedavra_ hadn't killed him, but it certainly hadn't done him any good, either.

_Accio wand_, he thought. Nothing happened. He tried to shove aside his awareness of the pain and concentrate. He'd done this hundreds of times. He could practically do it in his sleep. Come on!

Wormtail released Harry suddenly and took a step back, nearly standing on Draco when he refused to kill Potter. Surprise at the turn of events made Draco pause—perhaps Wormtail would be useful and turn on the Dark Lord? Or at least take out Fenrir or Lars? That vague hope died when Wormtail was quickly killed by his own hand and hit the floor near Draco's feet. Draco sighed and focused once more on retrieving his wand—the Dark Lord would not be distracted forever. Voldemort began ranting.

Draco's efforts were curtailed by Voldemort seating himself in the chair and snatching up the two wands he'd thrown carelessly on the seat: Harry's and Draco's. The Dark Lord dangled one before Harry for a moment.

"Trying for this, Potter? Looks like you don't quite have it in you to perform wandless magic, eh? Must be the Muggle-born taint."

Draco watched through nearly-closed eyes as Voldemort tucked the wands into his robe. He shut his eyes with a silent groan. Now what?

A muted commotion made Draco slit his eyes open again. Voldemort made a quick gesture and command. Most of the Death Eaters hurried for the passage that led back to the first chamber. The reinforcements must have arrived. Snape remained in the room, as did Draco's parents.

"Apparently your protectors have arrived, Potter. A bit too late." He snapped another directive and Draco felt more than saw the dementors fly after the Death Eaters. He heard Fenrir climb to his feet a distance away.

"Where is the Malfoy brat?" the werewolf snarled. "I'll kill him!"

"Lucius took care of that for you. Go join the others," Voldemort ordered.

Greyback growled, but thankfully came no closer. It was possible he could see through Draco's ruse. Fenrir chuckled ruefully. "What a bloody waste. I'll have to settle for Potter's little friends, then. I think I'll start with that Mudblood girl…"

Draco tried not to let the thought twist his insides.

"Where's the Metamorphmagus?"

Draco smiled inwardly. The idiots had forgotten to watch Tonks. She must have transformed into a Death Eater and ran out with the others. Hopefully, she could figure out how to get the Order here posthaste.

"Useless fools!" Voldemort bellowed. "Just go kill them!"

Hermione was nearly to the open passage when the sound of footsteps warned her. She threw herself behind the nearest pillar just in time to avoid a blast from a Death Eater wand. Voldemort's minions had barely poured into the room when a massive swarm of dementors joined them. Hermione cast her _Patronus_ as one flung itself toward her.

"More stupid kids!" the brutal-faced Death Eater yelled. "They're supposed to stop us? Where's the Order?" He laughed loudly. "Oh yes, trying to save the Ministry."

A Death Eater ran toward Hermione and she raised her wand again, but it shockingly metamorphosed into Tonks. Hermione jerked her wand aside just in time.

"Tonks! Where did you come from?"

Tonks threw herself behind the pillar with Hermione and shot a spell at another henchman. The Death Eaters were racing to take up positions around the opposite pillars and the dementors dove and spun like evil birds. Susan Bones shredded one with a spell that looked like lightning and then turned the same spell on a Death Eater. They avoided it by leaping to the ground and rolling.

"I pretended to be Fenrir—they traded me for Percy as planned. I was to lead the order to Voldemort's headquarters, but when I got here the real Fenrir was free… as you must know."

The mention of the werewolf was timely. Greyback emerged from the tunnel. Tonks and Hermione ducked out of sight.

Tonks looked at her seriously. "Draco freed me… Harry's still in there, under an _Imperius Curse_. Hermione, Lucius Malfoy killed Draco."

She looked at Tonks uncomprehendingly. Draco could not be dead. It was impossible. She wouldn't allow it. She clutched the coin on her chest instinctively and forced down a rush of fear.

"Who else is in there?" she asked hoarsely.

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Snape. And Voldemort."

Fenrir had moved into the center of the room, dodging spells from Luna and Susan Bones. Hermione stood up.

"I've got to help Harry. You try to find out where the Order is and get them here as quickly as possible."

Hermione did not wait for a response, but dashed to the passage unhindered. When she reached it, something snagged on the edge of the open door. She looked down in surprise to find Bellatrix Lestrange's wand jutting from her back pocket. Bloody hell, she needed to give that to Tonks.

Draco cast his mind out desperately for a solution. Wormtail. His body lay nearby—Voldemort had not taken his wand, had he? Draco flexed his hand slightly, reaching… Before he could cast an _Accio_, he felt something heavy touch his leg. It slid up his thigh and over his crotch—oh hell, the snake! Its tongue flicked Draco's face and then it hissed loudly. Draco's shirt was suddenly snatched in a claw-like hand and the snake's weight fell away as Draco was hoisted. Wracking pain jolted through his body at the sharp movement. Draco fought to remain conscious as blackness clutched at the edges of his mind.

"The boy lives!" Voldemort snarled. Draco felt himself being dragged across the room. "What is the meaning of this, _Lucius_?" He opened his eyes to see Voldemort's horrible eyes glaring at his father. The snake quickly curled around Draco's parents—enfolding them in a deadly embrace. Lucius met the Dark Lord's gaze steadily.

"He's my son. I love him."

The words seemed to incense Voldemort. He shook Draco like a rag doll.

"I'll deal with you later, Lucius," he hissed. "Draco. Your father did you no favor by sparing you. Now he can watch you die in torment."

Draco managed to get his feet under him and contrived to bear his own weight, though he trembled with the effort. The Dark Lord's grip on his shirt did not slacken.

"Severus. Bring me the potion—the one I planned to use on Avery."

Snape approached and pulled a small vial of purplish liquid from his robes. Draco's eyes met his for a moment, but Snape's black gaze was impassive. Voldemort's other hand reached up to grab Draco's chin and force his eyes back to meet the reddish slits that burned into Draco's mind.

"My lord Voldemort," Lucius whispered, struggling against the coils that held him. "Please…"

"Silence, Lucius, or Narcissa will go first."

Draco's mother sobbed and maintained a ceaseless pleading that Voldemort completely ignored.

"Why did you betray me, boy?" he snarled. "Before you die, tell me why."

Draco's lips curved. If he were to die, at least he would die a Malfoy.

"Because you are mad as a fucking hatter, of course."

Voldemort's wand pressed hard beneath Draco's chin and his mouth cracked open in a hideous caricature of a smile.

"I could crack you open like an egg and no one would stop me," he murmured. "Oh, your parents would try, no doubt, but they are tied up at the moment and Lucius would be wise not to cross me again. You betrayed me to join Potter and his ilk. Do you think any of your new friends will save you? Do you think they would even try?"

Draco ignored him. _Accio_ wand, he thought. Voldemort's robe twitched and Draco felt the hardness of wood against his hand—but it was hampered by the robe and remained in the Dark Lord's pocket. Damn the depth of the compartment—he would have to coax the thing upward and outward. He did not have the chance. Draco felt another spike of pain as he was yanked from his feet and hauled, stumbling, before Potter. Draco caught his balance once more and his eyes met Harry's. The rage burning in those green orbs made Draco's breath catch in his throat. Voldemort was a fool not to kill Harry immediately—if Potter freed himself from the _Imperius Curse_, he was going to erupt like a Gryffindor volcano.

"Do you think Potter and his chums will even notice when you're gone? They seem to value sacrifice—do you think any of them would die for you, Draco? Well, Potter? The Gryffindor hero? Will you take his place? Will you die for Draco Malfoy?"

Harry's mouth opened and Draco had little doubt what his response would be, but a clear voice suddenly rang in the room.

"No. But I will."

Draco's eyes left Harry and reluctantly moved to the passage entrance. Hermione Granger stood like an avenging angel; her wand was steady and her face set in defiance. Draco had never seen such a beautiful sight in his life. At the same instant, he was horrified that she was here.

"Ah, the Mudblood prodigy. Throw your wand down, girl. Unless you want Malfoy to suffer before he dies." Draco could sense glee emanating from Voldemort. He was excited at the prospect of torturing another of Harry's friends.

_Just kill him, Hermione_, Draco willed. _Forget me, and kill the bastard_.

Hermione threw her wand. It hit the floor and skid. Voldemort snarled.

"Clever girl, but we don't want to tempt Potter unduly, do we?" The Dark Lord _Accioed_ her wand from where it had landed near Harry. "Come here."

Hermione's wand joined the others in Voldemort's possession and she walked forward calmly. The Dark Lord released Draco's shirt, only to reach up and snatch a fistful of hair at the base of Draco's neck and twist him around to face Hermione.Her huge brown eyes met Draco's solemnly. She tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Tell me, Mudblood. Why are you willing to die for Malfoy?" Voldemort asked curiously. "By all accounts, he hates your kind."

"I love him," she said simply. Draco shut his eyes against the surge of emotion that rushed over him. How could she? Voldemort snarled a laugh.

"That seems to be a common malady today. Fatal, in this case. Severus, give her the potion."

Hermione's glance shifted to Snape, who handed her the purple vial. She took it and held it up questioningly.

"Doleovenen," Snape commented.

"A particularly nasty poison. It takes quite a long time to kill its victim. Extraordinarily painful, as well. Are you certain you won't allow Malfoy to take it? You can still save yourself. I'm sure you don't want to die."

For reply, Hermione uncorked the vial and tossed the cork aside. She held the potion in her right hand and prepared to drink.

"May I say goodbye, first?" she asked. Without waiting for a response, she stepped forward and pressed her lips tenderly against Draco's. At the same instant, he felt her left hand touch his wrist. Something hard slid beneath his sleeve—good God, it was a wand! He kissed her hard, begging her without words to escape. His mind was reeling—why hadn't she kept the wand for herself? Used it?

"It's done," she whispered when the kiss ended and her actions were suddenly clear. The Horcrux. It was gone, but she couldn't cast a _Killing Curse _on Voldemort—it simply wasn't in her. But she knew Draco could.

"I love you," he murmured. The surprise and warmth in her eyes dulled some of Draco's pain, but Voldemort's next words brought it crashing back.

"Drink up, girl."

Draco reached for the wand in his sleeve as Hermione stepped back and lifted the vial in a salute. She tipped the contents into her mouth. Her eyes were on Voldemort, holding his attention. Draco tugged the wand out. He willed Hermione to spit out the poison, but Voldemort suddenly touched the wand to her cheek and whispered a command.

"Swallow." Hermione, caught by the unspoken _Imperius Curse_, obeyed just as Draco touched the wand to Voldemort's chest and whispered, "_Avada Kedavra_."

The Dark Lord screamed.


	49. Chapter 49 Snape's Revelation

**Chapter Forty Nine – Snape's Revelation**

Draco felt a sinking sensation. When hit with a _Killing Curse_, one did not scream, one fell down and bloody died! Except when the caster was one's own father and he didn't really want to kill you, but regardless, Voldemort did not cooperate. He staggered backward and his scream turned into a macabre laugh. Draco tried again, remembering to _want_ it—God, did he want the hellish bastard to die!—but this time Voldemort deflected the bolt. The Dark Lord flung a hex at Draco, who dove aside—away from Hermione. He saw her run to Harry out of the corner of his eye.

"Snape!" Draco yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you? They've been destroyed! Do you understand? We got them all!"

Draco scored another hit on Voldemort, who reeled, but did not fall. The Dark Lord snarled at Draco.

"Idiot! Did you think I would risk losing this body? The one it took me _fifteen years_ to gain?" The Dark Lord laughed again. "There are means of protection of which Dumbledore knew nothing!"

Draco dove behind the chair to avoid another green blast, which took a large chunk out of the furnishing. He felt momentary chagrin—Lucius was going to be furious. Snape still stood nearby with an amused smile, not moving. Draco gripped the wand tighter and registered a moment of surprise when he recognized it. How had Hermione gotten Bellatrix's wand?

"Snape! Damn you, do something!" he demanded, casting a _Shield Charm_ just in time to deflect another blast.

"Nagini! Kill the Malfoys!" Voldemort countered before he seemed to recall the snake wasn't human and quickly hissed in Parseltongue. Draco shot a quick bolt at the snake—a move Voldemort anticipated. Draco expected the attack and leaped behind Dobby's cage. The house-elf howled in terror and pressed himself flat against the floor of the cage when it clanged loudly from the blast. Draco glanced over to see the snake's scales beginning to tighten around his parents.

"Bastard!" Draco snarled and leaped out to hit Voldemort again, but the spells were having no effect—how the hell was he managing it?

"_Expelliarmus!_" Voldemort shrieked and Draco felt Bellatrix's wand go flying. Bloody hell! Now he was completely defenseless. In frustration, Draco did the last thing the Dark Lord would expect—he charged him. Voldemort crashed to the floor with Draco atop him. Malfoy made sure to dig a knee hard into Voldemort's midsection when he landed. His left hand grabbed the Dark Lord's wrist while his right fumbled with the robes.

"_Accio_ wands!" Draco hissed. This time it worked. All three wands slid from Voldemort's enfolding robes and into Draco's hand. Voldemort hurled Draco away from him with superhuman strength. Draco skid across the floor and cast a _Shield Charm_ to deflect the inevitable hex that flew at him with intent to kill. The spell bounced off harmlessly, deflected by the odd triple-shield effect created by Draco using all three wands at once. Malfoy blinked in bemusement, never having seen anything quite like it.

Voldemort climbed to his feet, no longer amused. His red eyes fairly glowed with rage.

"Severus, kill this upstart immediately!" he snarled. "_Kill them all!_"

"No, I don't think I will," Snape said quietly and leveled a bizarre black spell at Voldemort that knocked him back several meters to slam into the stone wall. If Draco had thought Voldemort enraged before, it was nothing compared to the expression that now flooded his snakelike features. He seemed too livid even for words to find the last Death Eater in the room turning against him. Voldemort shot spell after spell at Snape, who either dodged them or blocked them with apparent ease.

Draco took advantage of the respite to race over to his parents. He spared a quick glance at Harry and Hermione as he passed. Granger looked pale and somewhat shaken.

"Granger, catch!" he yelled. She snatched both wands out of the air when Draco tossed them. Draco stopped in surprise when he neared the snake. His father held the reptilian head in both hands to fend off the menacing fangs, but that was not what arrested Draco's attention. Rather, it was the bloody slashes suddenly appearing on the snake's body. Draco puzzled for a moment over the source—Narcissa seemed to be unconscious, or worse. Then Draco heard someone yell, "_Sectumsempra_!"

"Weasel? Is that you?"

"Yes," Ron yelled from somewhere beneath Potter's invisibility cloak. "Harry told me to help your parents."

Draco wondered when Potter had managed that, but he did not pause to consider it as he cast several spells while keeping half an eye on the battle raging between Snape and Voldemort. The slashing spells worked on the snake, but not quickly enough. Draco could see his father's grip weakening under the crushing grip of the coils.

A flash of red and orange obscured Draco's vision and he blinked at the phoenix that suddenly hovered in front of him. In its claws, it held the battered Sorting Hat. The hilt of Gryffindor's sword jutted from the hat. Draco snatched the sword without thinking and raced forward.

"I'm really starting to like that bird," he murmured and swung the blade in a lethal arc, narrowly missing his father's hands as he lopped Nagini's head from the still-deadly body. Lucius flung the head away and collapsed.

"Weasley! Help me get the coils off—they're still tightening!"

Draco threw the sword down and used his wand to pry the scaled menace from his parents. Parts of Weasley appeared as he tugged at the snake with hands and magic. Finally, Draco's parents were free from the twitching coils.

"Mother—is she—?"

Lucius cradled Narcissa tenderly and touched her neck. His grey eyes met Draco's.

"She lives."

Draco's relief was tangible. He gripped his father's shoulder.

"Get her out of here," he said.

"Not without you," Lucius replied and looked at the strange battle. Snape and Voldemort seemed to be at a stalemate. Snape's spells—Dark magic Draco had never seen before—had little effect on the Dark Lord. Likewise, Snape deflected Voldemort's hexes with a frightening ease.

"No. I have to see this through," Draco said. And he wouldn't leave Hermione. "He'll kill Mother if he can, to hurt both of us. You must get her to safety." Lucius sighed and picked up his wife's limp body.

"Be careful," Lucius said. "And for pity's sake, don't do anything… Gryffindor."

Draco grinned, knowing he couldn't guarantee that. He turned; smile fading as he saw Hermione sprawled next to Potter. Her head rested on Harry's shoulder. He hurried over and knelt beside her, feeling a jolt of fear at the look of pain in her brown eyes. She tried to mask it with a smile that looked more like a grimace of torment.

"I can't believe you drank that," he admonished and took her hand.

"I can't believe you love me," she replied. Draco flushed and smiled ruefully. His eyes slid to Potter's. The green orbs were tinged with amusement for the briefest instant.

"We don't have time to discuss that," Draco said. "Did you free Potter from the _Imperius_?"

"No need—he did it himself."

"You shook off the _Imperius_ and then sat here? Thanks for the help, Potter," Draco snapped.

"I didn't want him to know I was free—I didn't expect Snape to step in. How is Voldemort blocking the spells?"

"I don't know. He said something about protection. He must have an amulet, or something."

"That's one hell of an amulet."

"For someone that split his own soul into several pieces and tucked them into various objects, I don't think an amulet of protection is much of a challenge."

"All right, so how do we kill him?"

"Perhaps with the three of us attacking, we can overload the amulet."

"What do you mean _three_?" Weasley asked.

"Don't spoil the joy of not seeing you by speaking," Draco mentioned and added, "You stay with Hermione—keep her under the cloak so Voldemort doesn't try to use her against us again." Even though she's already dying, he thought with a spasm of pain. "We've got to get the antidote from Snape."

"If there is an antidote," she said gravely.

"Don't say that!" Draco said harshly. He planted a desperate kiss on her lips—God, they were so cold—and handed her gently to Weasley, whose face had briefly appeared from the folds of the cloak.

"Ready, Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said and got to his feet. The two of them stood together and lifted their wands.

Harry was glad to have his wand in hand once more. He was also glad to have Malfoy beside him, though he would never have admitted that fact. They strode forward and cast simultaneously. Voldemort shrieked at the triple onslaught—Snape had cast a jagged, purple-black hex at the same moment. The Dark Lord actually staggered.

A pleading tone entered Voldemort's voice. "Severus, why? You were always my most loyal servant!" His words were belied by the vicious hex he sent spinning toward Snape, who dispelled it with a flick of his wrist.

"Loyal servant?" Snape growled. "_To you_? I haven't been loyal to you for the past eighteen years! My sole reason for living has been to see you permanently destroyed!"

Voldemort snarled and shot several spells in succession. He completely ignored Harry and Draco's concerted attack, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

"But you killed Dumbledore!"

"Do you want to know why, you half-blood freak?" Snape cried. "You twisted, blood-tainted horror!"

"Your own father was a Muggle!" Voldemort countered angrily. Snape laughed. He sounded genuinely amused. Harry paused, as did Draco.

"Fool! You pride yourself on your power—your vaunted ability as a Legilimens, and yet you never once suspected!"

"Suspected what?" Voldemort snapped.

"You never suspected that I was not Severus Snape." With that, the former Potions master touched his wand to his own head. His skin seemed to ripple and malform. The hook nose disappeared and the greasy hair became a gleaming black mass. The features reformed into a chiseled, handsome visage. The shocked silence in the room was tangible. Harry took a disbelieving step forward.

"_Sirius?_"

The bright blue eyes flicked to him for a bare instant before a sneer—utterly Snapelike and familiar, but puzzlingly different at the same time—twisted the handsome lips.

"Not my dear departed brother, Potter. My name is Regulus."

Harry could not quite twist his mind around the revelation. Apparently, neither could Voldemort, who frankly gaped at him in incomprehension.

"Regulus Black? But… _how?_"

"How? Yes, that is quite a tale, isn't it?" Regulus casually lifted his wand and shot a lightning bolt hex that knocked the Dark Lord off his feet to smash into the ground several meters away. Voldemort climbed to his feet with a snarl. Harry looked at Malfoy, who shrugged in puzzlement.

"We seem to be a bit useless, at the moment," Draco commented. As if the words called Voldemort's attention, a green bolt shot toward Malfoy. Harry instinctively cast a _Shield Charm_ and the spell careened away. Malfoy turned his attention back to the Dark Lord and cast a spell that echoed Snape—no, Regulus Black's—next curse.

The three of them moved to position themselves around Voldemort, who was beginning to look like a cornered animal. His protection charm had to be weakening, given the severe pounding it had taken.

"You were killed!" Voldemort yelled. "How can you be here?"

"You think you are the only one that knows about Horcruxes?" Regulus taunted. He laughed at the horrified expression on Voldemort's twisted face. "Oh yes, I know all about your little toys. But no, my explanation is far simpler. When you sent your little group of Death Eaters to kill me, I killed them instead. Bole, Pucey, and Severus Snape. I forced Snape to drink Polyjuice Potion to become me. And then I killed him. His death anchored the spell—his body remained in my likeness. I then Polyjuiced into Snape and returned to you in triumph."

Regulus quickly cast a spell that resembled Fred and George's bubble spell, except Black's seemed to be filled with poisonous gas. Voldemort struggled to dispel it. After a moment it wavered and burst.

"Of course, shortly thereafter you stupidly decided to attack the Potters when I told you about that ridiculous prophecy. The one I heard while applying for a job with Dumbledore. Under _your_ orders I might add." That seemed to strike Regulus as funny and he chuckled—a sound so reminiscent of Sirius that Harry felt a sharp spike of pain. "You might say you engineered your own downfall."

Voldemort gathered himself and sent four quick spells zinging at Regulus. One missed and two were miraculously deflected, but the fourth spun Regulus half-around and sent him to one knee with a grimace of pain. Harry and Draco quickly attacked Voldemort, giving Regulus time to recover.

"I've never seen you take Polyjuice!" Harry called. When Barty Crouch, Jr. had playacted as Alastor Moody, he had continuously nipped from a flagon of Polyjuice Potion. Regulus rolled aside and leaped to his feet to escape additional spells. Harry thought Voldemort was definitely weakening and sent another _Sectumsempra_ blasting at the Dark Lord.

"Once Voldemort was gone, I confessed all to Dumbledore. It was decided that I would remain Severus Snape in order to avoid Azkaban. Ironic, seeing that my dear brother was sent to that very place for a crime he did not commit."

"How could you let Sirius go to Azkaban?" Harry shouted.

"I didn't know he was innocent at the time. Frankly, I wouldn't have cared. He was a right bastard to me, back then!" Regulus raced forward and shot spell after spell at Voldemort while closing the distance. Voldemort backed away while casting deflective counter-curses. Regulus continued to speak in a casual tone, although his breath was coming in harsh gasps from exertion. "Dumbledore and I expected you to come back much sooner, _Lord Voldemort_. Good old Albus made my transformation permanent so that I did not have to continually imbibe Polyjuice."

A blast from Voldemort caused Regulus to pause and drop to one knee to avoid it.

"You _killed_ Dumbledore!" Harry yelled.

"It was the only way to get back into Tom Riddle's good graces," Regulus said. "Besides, the old fool was dead already. Destroying the ring nearly killed him and drinking the potion in the cave clinched it. There was no way to save him and he knew it."

"Don't call me Tom Riddle!" Voldemort shrieked suddenly and leaped at Regulus, who was taken off-guard at the unexpected movement. He crashed to the floor with the Dark Lord on top of him. Voldemort's wand twisted into the folds of Black's robes and a reddish glow emanated from the wand to shimmer over Regulus, who threw back his head and screamed agonizingly.

Draco lobbed curse after curse at Voldemort, who finally climbed off of Regulus with a snarl and turned on Malfoy. Regulus lay still. Harry shook off his horror and joined Draco's efforts. Malfoy looked more frantic than Harry had ever seen him. He was puzzled for a moment until he remembered—oh God, _Hermione_. If Regulus were dead, how would they find an antidote?

"We've got to end this now!" Draco yelled, racing across the room pursued by a barrage of spells.

"How?" Harry demanded, throwing himself aside when Voldemort shifted the attack to him. "Our spells aren't working!"

"Give up, Potter!" Voldemort said and laughed. "Regulus Black was a master of the Dark Arts. You can't even cast a simple _Unforgivable_!"

"_I_ can!" Draco yelled and sent three at the Dark Lord. "And you are weakening!" It was true, Voldemort was panting raggedly and he seemed to be in pain. Harry thought some of the spells were beginning to work.

"Not enough to matter," Voldemort said simply and cast again. The green bolt shot toward Draco in a flash. Malfoy cried out and fell.

"_NO!_" Harry screamed. With renewed energy, he attacked Voldemort once more. The reddish eyes seemed to glow with rage and he advanced on Harry, who backed away and nearly tripped over the broken chair. A bolt nearly hit him as he skirted the seat and continued backward. Voldemort followed until he stood before the chair.

"It's just you and me, Potter," Voldemort grated. "As it was meant to be." He lifted his wand in what Harry knew would be the final encounter. Harry's eyes met the reptilian orbs and he knew death was a single spell away. Make it quick, he prayed. A voice cut through Harry's dark thoughts.

"_Potter, catch!_"

He glanced over to see the Gryffindor sword flying hilt-first toward him from Draco's hand. Harry caught the sword without thinking, twisted, and launched himself straight at Voldemort. The blade thrust the Dark Lord backward into the chair and the force of Harry's attack sent the sword straight through Voldemort's body to pierce the chair. Harry's face was inches from Voldemort's and the red eyes were wide with reptilian surprise.

"Did I mention we destroyed all your Horcruxes?" Harry whispered coldly.

"No… it's impossible," Voldemort hissed. Blood sprayed from his lips with the words and Harry grinned like a Malfoy.

"Enjoy hell, _Tom_."

Voldemort howled and his body suddenly softened and twisted. Harry shoved himself away and stood back. The body, a construct of magic, seemed to both split and dissolve at once. The howling scream keened to an almost inaudible pitch and then died away. The shrunken body contained in the black robes shriveled away, leaving a shapeless mass held to the chair by the gleaming sword.

Harry fell to his knees in stunned relief.

Draco did not wait for Voldemort to die. After ensuring Potter actually caught the sword, he raced to Regulus Black. His hands wrapped in the black robes. Thankfully, the cerulean eyes opened.

"Draco," Regulus said and coughed. "My sweet cousin."

Draco stared at him for a moment, suddenly realizing why Snape had always seemed to favor him—and why he always spent time at the Malfoys. Regulus had always been his mother's favorite cousin… He had forsaken his family, except in the guise of a pathetic half-blood teacher. Draco shook off the thought.

"The antidote!" he demanded. "Give it to me."

"Draco. She's a Mudblood. Let her die."

Draco's hands clenched into fists and he half-lifted Black with a sob of fear. Regulus had sacrificed eighteen years of his life for his pureblood ideals. Would he sacrifice Hermione to spare Draco from the Mudblood taint? Draco had never begged for anything in his entire life. He did so now.

"Please. _Please_, Regulus."

Black coughed again and blood flecked his lips.

"It's for your own good, cousin."

Draco nearly slammed Black's head into the floor in frustration.

"Let _me_ worry about my own good, damn you!" he snarled. "Now, where is it?"

Regulus shut his eyes and sighed. "It's in my office. Left of the door. Cabinet—second shelf. Third bottle over. Green label. Cousin, you'll never get there in time."

Draco flung himself to his feet and raced for the passage, knowing Regulus spoke the truth. The poison had already been in Hermione's system far too long. When Draco reached the entrance, he bowled over Ginny Weasley as she exited. She glared at him from the ground and he stared at her red hair for a moment as a wild idea dawned.

"Fawkes!" Draco yelled suddenly, scanning the room. The bird had evidently been perched nearby, for it only took a moment for it to land on Draco's shoulder. Malfoy sagged in relief. "Get the antidote. Snape's office!" He explained where it was and the phoenix streaked off in a blur. Draco clenched his fists in anxiety, skirted the red-haired stick girl without looking at her and walked to Hermione—still half-covered by Harry's cloak. Ron moved aside as Draco sat down heavily and slid Hermione's head into his lap. Her body was wracked with pain and she was drenched in sweat.

Harry Potter stood nearby with a worried expression. Ginny slipped her arms around him.

"Hold on, Granger, you insanely stubborn Gryffindor," Draco murmured and took both her hands in his. She squeezed his hands tightly, white-knuckled. Hurry, bird, he urged.


	50. Chapter 50 A True Gryffindor

**Chapter Fifty – A True Gryffindor**

Harry watched Draco for a moment, astounded at the change in the Slytherin. Less than a month ago, Harry would have given anything to watch Malfoy suffer. Now it was agony. He held Ginny tightly; knowing he should ask her about the Death Eaters, but nothing seemed to matter except Hermione's shallow breathing.

A small rattle behind him made him turn. Dobby's cage was twisted and bent, but not broken. Harry released Ginny and walked over to release the lock. Dobby climbed out and gratefully looked at Harry sadly.

"Dobby found the Dark Lord, Harry Potter," the house-elf said. Harry tried to smile. Dobby went on, "Kreacher is free."

Harry nodded. "Because Regulus Black is the true master of Grimmauld Place and has been since Sirius died."

"Yes, Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes went to Regulus, who still lay unmoving where Voldemort's spell had broken him. Harry walked over and knelt beside him. For a moment, he thought Regulus was dead, but he blue eyes—so like Sirius's—opened and glanced at him. Blood bubbled from his lips with every breath.

"We need to get you some help," Harry said in alarm.

"No, Potter," Regulus rasped. He grimaced. "So. You managed to win, after all."

"Thanks to you," Harry admitted, although he wasn't certain he meant it. His memories of Snape were so steeped in hatred, it was hard to reconcile years of anger with the man who now lay before him.

Regulus closed his eyes.

"You were so awful to me," Harry whispered.

"I hate you, Potter," Regulus admitted with a slight smile. "I hated your father, I hated Remus Lupin, and I hated my brother… until he was gone. I wish…" He coughed and wiped his lips with a pale wrist, leaving a smear of red across his handsome face. "We had fun together as children. I wish we could have held onto that as we grew. I missed him when he chose James Potter over me."

Harry felt a yawning chasm of pain calling him, as it always did when he thought of Sirius. It was mingled with the ever-present rage.

"You let him rot in Azkaban," Harry hissed.

"Do not try to lay penance on me, Potter," Regulus snapped, Snapelike. "I know what I've done."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You killed Snape after you were both out of Hogwarts. Yet when I saw the memory in the Pensieve during Occlumency lessons—you… Snape? were in school."

Regulus barked a wet laugh.

"That was a true memory of dear Severus," he admitted. "I coaxed it out of him one night when we were both smashed. I kept several of Snape's old memories to help in my charade. Luckily, the horrid little git was never popular and no one knew him well. My identity was never questioned."

A coughing spasm wracked his body and Harry stood quickly.

"I'll get you some help."

"Heal me so I can go to Azkaban for killing Dumbledore?" Regulus asked and grinned horribly.

"No… I'm sure—"

A shout distracted Harry—Fawkes had returned.

The phoenix landed on Draco's shoulder and dropped the vial into his hand. It was a tiny, opaque brown bottle with a green label. The writing had long since faded into illegibility.

Hermione had slipped into delirium. She kept murmuring Draco's name between wrenching spasms of pain. He carefully uncorked the bottle and slid a glance at Regulus Black. Harry crouched over the former Death Eater.

Draco paused with the vial poised over Hermione's lips. Regulus despised her kind—the potion could easily be another poison to hasten her demise. Hermione whimpered and Draco realized it would be a mercy to kill her quickly rather than let her suffer the torment she now endured.

He tipped the potion into her mouth.

Regulus's hand caught Harry's as he began to walk away.

"Potter—perhaps you can help me."

Harry threw an anxious glance toward the others gathered around Hermione and then crouched beside Black once more.

"In my cape—there is a potion with a red stopper. It will help with the pain. Left pocket."

Harry quickly rifled through Regulus's pockets—the man was a veritable cornucopia of potions. He finally located one with a red stopper. It was an ugly blackish potion, unlabeled.

Harry held it up dubiously, wishing he had paid more attention in Potions class. Regulus reached up and took it, but he did not have the strength to unstopper it. Harry took it and popped out the red cork.

Regulus grasped the vial with a shaking hand and emptied the contents into his mouth. He grinned sardonically at Harry.

"I'll say hello to Sirius for you, Potter," he said. Harry watched in disbelief as Black's hand dropped lifelessly to the floor. The vial clinked on the stone and rolled away.

"Damn you," Harry whispered and grabbed Regulus's throat, feeling desperately for a pulse. After a moment, he sat back on his haunches with a strange sense of despair. Regulus Black was dead—in truth this time. And Severus Snape with him.

Harry rose and walked back to his friends.

After a long moment, Hermione's breathing eased. Draco did not know whether or not it was a good sign. He held Hermione tightly, as though he could somehow transfer his life force to her.

His eyes met Weasley's. Ron knelt nearby and his blue eyes mirrored Draco's. For the first time, he felt kinship with the Weasel and smiled ruefully.

"She'll be fine," Ron murmured fervently.

Draco glanced over at the passageway as several people entered—Neville, Luna, Susan Bones, Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Jack Williamson. Harry joined them as they approached.

"Regulus Black is dead," Harry said. Draco felt a twinge of… what? Remorse? Regulus, as Snape, had taken an active role in Draco's life, especially recently.

"Regulus Black has been dead for years," Tonks said, puzzled.

"Not quite as dead as everyone assumed," Draco commented. He noticed Lupin was bleeding from several claw like gashes, especially one that had carved a furrow across his scalp and over one temple, narrowly missing his eye. Blood trickled down his face and dripped onto his robes. Tonks repeatedly tried to dab at it with a cloth, but Remus waved her back.

"Voldemort?" Lupin asked.

"The Chosen One triumphed over evil," Draco said dramatically and grinned at Potter's glare. He felt Hermione's hand clench on his and looked down to see her eyes open. She smiled softly.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"A bit better. I'm no longer praying to die."

"Thank goodness, because I'm praying for you to live and it would be damned counter-productive." His words were light, but still he feared the potion might not be an antidote. It could yet be a painkiller or sedative.

"What happened to the Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"Susan Bones killed most of them," Ginny said. Draco decided to hate Susan a bit less next time he saw her.

"Greyback nearly got me," Luna said. "But Professor McGonagall saved me before…"

"Before Greyback killed her," Tonks said quietly. Harry sucked in a harsh breath, but Draco felt little at the news. McGonagall had been a minimal presence in his life. Hermione's eyes filled with tears and Draco decided it would be a good idea to comfort her. He kissed her and was pleased to note her lips were no longer ice cold. He was mildly entertained by the gasp of surprise his action brought from Lupin.

Hermione's hand reached up and touched his hair. Draco enjoyed the kiss a bit too much and had to force himself to break it.

"I can't breathe again," Hermione murmured.

Draco looked at her in alarm, but she giggled.

"It's your fault this time."

"Voldemort said he had the Ministry," Harry said. "Is there any word?"

Lupin snorted and batted away Tonks as she held the cloth up to his head.

"Voldemort was a bit premature, there. If he had waited a bit longer, until the full moon—it would have been awful. As it was, they were poorly organized; a rabble, really. They were led by Avery and consisted of a group of Greyback's pet werewolves. They completely broke ranks and ran amok throughout the Ministry. That Death Eater with a face like a hatchet—"

"Lars," Draco supplied.

"—arrived later and tried to get them under control, but it was too late. A handful of Aurors and some of the more competent Ministry officials made mincemeat of them."

"And then Fred and George appeared and it was quickly over," Jack said. "Those two are bloody brilliant."

"Although they are now in some trouble with Rufus Scrimgeour…" Lupin added.

Jack chuckled. "You should see what they did to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Lupin sighed and ducked Tonks again.

"If you don't hold still and let me tend to that, I'm going to bloody well hex you unconscious and then do it!" she yelled. For a moment, Draco thought the werewolf might actually defy his cousin, but then Tonks smiled and wheedled, "_Please_." Lupin caved like a cheap cauldron hit by a Bludger.

"What about Percy?" Ron asked suddenly. Luna had sidled over and attached herself to Weasley's arm, as she usually did to Draco. Ron didn't seem to mind.

"He's fine. The exchange went as planned. He's at St. Mungo's with your parents. A bit bruised and shaken, but he should be all right."

"I think I can stand," Hermione said. Draco helped her to her feet, wincing when the phoenix shifted and dug its claws into his shoulder. He wondered how to make the bird depart, but forgot the thought as Hermione swayed against him. Draco caught her and his arms went around her waist. Her hands clutched his shoulders. He stared into her wide brown eyes for a moment before he noticed she was grinning wickedly.

"I did that on purpose," she admitted.

"You are turning into a shameless hussy, Granger!" he whispered into her ear.

"I nearly died," she said. "I realized there are some things I want to do before that happens. Most of them involve you… without clothing."

Draco went rigid and sucked in a shocked breath.

"Should we leave?" Potter asked dryly, echoing Draco's thoughts. When Hermione looked at Harry, he grinned and enveloped her in a hug—which included Draco, since he had not released her. Malfoy suffered Potter's arm around his shoulders. For a moment.

"Potter can't keep his hands off of me, Granger. You might want to have a word with him."

"If you let go of her, I won't need to touch you at all," Potter commented.

"I don't want to deprive you of your meager pleasures."

Harry gave him a pained look. "Malfoy—"

"Oh all right," Draco said and freed Hermione. Harry immediately pulled her into a joyful embrace, joined quickly by Weasley. Strangely, Draco felt no envy seeing the trio thus enfolded. He no longer felt like an outsider.

Lupin was kneeling by Wormtail. He gently pulled the metal hand away from Wormtail's throat and closed the staring eyes with one hand.

"Maybe we were too hard on him," he said regretfully. "Did we exclude him? Sometimes _I _felt inadequate next to Sirius and James… It must have been so much worse for Peter."

"Don't blame yourself, Remus," Tonks said with a hand on his shoulder. "Peter was responsible for the choices he made. He had to have known the consequences."

Lupin sighed and stood up. "It was such a bloody waste."

Draco agreed with that statement, although he felt no remorse whatsoever that Wormtail was gone. The little bastard had caused so much destruction in his quest for… what? Power? Any power granted to him by Voldemort had been an illusion.

"Let's get out of here," Lupin said.

Harry retrieved Gryffindor's sword, grimacing when the black cloth dropped to the seat of Malfoy's ruined chair. Draco noted he'd have to find another for his father. Ron picked up the invisibility cloak and slung it over his shoulder. Jack Williamson levitated Regulus Black's body and Lupin did the same for Wormtail.

As they left the chamber and walked through the passage, Potter glanced at the phoenix on Draco's shoulder.

"Looks like you've acquired a pet," Harry commented.

"I think it acquired me," he said wryly.

Harry blinked and said, "You know, we could have used Fawkes to heal Hermione—his tears…"

Draco glared at him.

"Bloody brilliant of you to think of it now, Potter."

Harry grinned.

"You know, Malfoy, Dumbledore once told me something interesting." He paused dramatically and Draco steeled himself for the dreaded snippet of wisdom. "He said only a true Gryffindor could pull Godric's sword from the Sorting Hat."

Draco halted, aghast. Hermione laughed merrily.

"Maybe you should switch Houses," she said.

Draco and Ron spoke together.

"You've got to be joking."

Hermione wasn't. "Just because it's never been done before doesn't mean it _can't_ be done."

Weasley groaned and clapped a hand to his head. The red-haired stick girl looked equally horrified, which made Draco pause and actually consider the idea. Anything the Weasley's hated…

"Red is an appalling color on me," he murmured, but the thought of being in the same portion of the castle as Hermione had its appeal, particularly since Draco already knew how to disable the spell that kept boys out of the girl's dorm…

He looked at Hermione in sudden, wicked speculation and she caught her breath in surprise.

"Why the hell not?" he said and laughed. If nothing else, it would cause a bloody uproar in both Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. Hermione threw her arms around him and gave him such a heady kiss he was ready to throw off his green robes and don the hideous red at that moment—figuratively speaking.

"God, I'll never be free of him!" Weasley moaned.


	51. Chapter 51 Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Draco tugged at his new dress robes. Hermione had picked them out for him after informing him that his black ones made him look like a vicar. He flicked a speck of imaginary dust from the silver-grey sleeve and grinned. She stood across from him and her brown eyes glowed appreciatively. She winked evilly and his pulse sped a bit at the anticipation of dragging her away after this foolish wedding business was over.

Bill Weasley looked nearly as nice as Draco from where he stood next to the minister. His long red hair was pulled back in a silver clasp and he wore rich blue robes trimmed in silver. He looked cool and confident. The rest of the Weasleys looked well-scrubbed and polished, even the red-haired stick girl who batted her lashes at Potter. Draco grinned. He had asked Harry if Ginny had extended him sexual favors and Potter's scarlet reaction had more than answered the blunt question. Draco had been happy to note that tormenting Potter was far more satisfying now than it had ever been when they were enemies.

Fleur Delacour appeared and Draco's brows rose appreciatively. She looked a vision in palest peach and the satin gleamed where the summer sun touched it. They could not have chosen a more perfect August day. Draco's eyes left Bill's bride and touched the school beyond. It was still uncertain whether or not Hogwarts would reopen in a few weeks. The battle over the new Headmaster or Headmistress continued. Slughorn had agreed to return as Potions Master once more. In a surprising twist, Lucius Malfoy had announced his intention to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and become the new head of Slytherin House. He had been cleared of any charges after the testimony of Potter and Ron Weasley at the trial.

Draco knew his father had decided to teach solely to sway Draco from the "insane path" he had chosen—namely his decision to join Gryffindor House (not that he really planned to go through with it, but he was having a bloody fabulous time getting everyone into a complete froth the idea), but also his open infatuation with Hermione Granger. There had been quite a row at Malfoy Manor once Draco returned home, although most of the shouting had been done by Lucius. Draco had listened with a pleased smile—so glad to be home without the threat of imminent death hanging over them that he barely heard his father's words. Lucius had finally collapsed in his new chair with a frustrated glare. Draco had walked over and planted a kiss on his father's forehead.

"I'll be fine, Father. We all will."

Draco's meeting with Granger's parents had gone much better. They immediately adored him, largely due to his stunningly perfect teeth, apparently. Draco had spent several days there and enjoyed the shower as often as possible, both singly… and with company. He flushed momentarily at the memory and glanced at Hermione in remembrance of her wet body covered in suds… She caught his steamy gaze and blushed profusely. Draco willed the bloody ceremony to end.

The last of the Death Eaters had been rounded up and sent to the Ministry for trail—but for Fenrir Greyback, who had escaped after attacking Lupin in the Chamber. Auntie Bellatrix had not gone quietly, screaming insanely that the Dark Lord would return as before. Potter and the others had exchanged smug looks at that outburst—they were confident all Horcruxes had been destroyed. Her husband, Rodolphus, had been killed in the battle with Susan Bones, Neville, and the others. Susan had stood trial and been released after the Carrows activities had been examined. The Carrows had been instrumental in the murders of Amelia Bones and several others. Susan was being closely watched by the Ministry and had to report in weekly, but at least she was not in Azkaban. The Longbottoms had taken her in and Draco vowed to watch that relationship closely. Psychotic Susan with passive Neville. It was curious.

Potter's birthday had been a riotous celebration. They had held it at Harry's house in London—horrid nasty place though it was, especially jammed with Weasleys. Their house was being rebuilt, but they planned to live with Harry until it was complete. Draco was certain the fringe benefit of having the red-haired stick girl under his roof had not escape Potter. The party had begun innocently enough with singing, eating cake and opening cute gifts. Draco had finally tired of it, kidnapped Potter and taken him to a seedy wizard bar. They had gotten completely shitfaced and Potter had been in the process of drawing lightning bolts on the ample bosoms of several local girls when Hermione and Ginny had tracked them down and ended the festivities.

Draco looked at Granger again through narrowed eyes. He still wasn't sure how she'd managed to find them. Clever little minx. He might have to torture the information out of her. The thought made him pleasantly warm again and he looked at Bill and Fleur. They were finally exchanging vows, thank God.

Finally the kissing, cheering, flower tossing and other wedding-related chores were past. They all adjourned to the Great Hall for the reception. Draco dragged Hermione straight to the Slytherin dungeon. She was vexed with him for almost two minutes until he kissed her senseless.

"We're going to miss the gift opening," she protested.

"Thank God," he said ardently. His fingers worked on the buttons of her gown while his mouth worked on the hollow of her throat.

"Won't it be nice to get back to school?" she asked.

"Nice," he agreed as the fabric pooled at her feet. Bloody hell, she was wearing those delectable lace undergarments again. Burnished copper in color. He picked her up and carried her to the cashmere rug he had installed before the fireplace.

"It will be rather sad, though. Our last year. I never asked what you plan to do after school."

Draco wasn't listening. It didn't matter; he knew how to silence her.

"Hermione?" he asked before kissing his way beneath the lace. She gasped and arched beneath him.

"Draco?"

"I love you," he said and proceeded to prove it.

**The End!!!!**

Author's really long note:

What a wild ride this fanfic has been! I never expected to write a novel-length fanfic. It all started one day when I was pondering the motives of Snape, Regulus Black, and the others that lived during the Marauder's era. I didn't think Regulus would go quietly and gave me the amazing idea that he had killed Snape and taken on his identity. It fit nicely with JKR's pattern of people not being who everyone thought they were. I'm also hopelessly addicted to the idea of Draco redeemed, even though I fear JKR won't share that view. I just hope she doesn't kill him because I'm sure I'll want to write another fanfic once the last book is out!

I want to thank everyone who has stuck with this story and especially those keeping me motivated with incredible reviews. It took me five years to write 300 pages of my own novel, yet I cranked this one out in just over three months—go figure! I could have made it longer (no wonder JKR's books are 600+ pages – do you know how many bleeding character plotlines she has to wrap up? I was going crazy just with the Dobby, Percy, Wormtail, and Greyback plotlines!) but the characters in my own book are sharpening their swords from being neglected. And Toryn is rather like Draco—I don't want to irritate him.

I plan to convert this to .pdf once I do a final clean-up edit, so anyone that wants a copy can email me from my fictionalley link and I'll send you one. Eventually, I'll have it online somewhere for direct download. If you find any errors or inconsistencies or things I forgot, please let me know!


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